Sael
by Axantur
Summary: As Eric and the Palace secretly prepare for Ariel's first birthday ashore, rumors swirl about the realm concerning the strange events the night of the recent failed wedding and the great storm that followed. The current cover image is "Ariel" by Scarlettiwater. Ariel, Eric, Grimsby, Carlotta, Max, Gertrude, and Sael are the property of the Walt Disney Company.
1. Chapter 1 - The Seadog

**Author's Note:** _I have always been interested in how others of Ariel's world would perceive her in light of the events of the movie. "Sael" is an exploration of relationships which will heavily inform "Shako" and "Night Comes to Ariel's Isle" in its revised form. _

**_Publication Date: _**_Sunday, February 8th, 2015 (**Emendations:** Saturday, December 5th, 2015)_

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**Sael**

**Chapter 1 – The Seadog**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 9:30 a.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

"Captain," Lord Grimsby stated dourly "I cannot stress to you the importance that these cargoes be removed at once and placed in the care of Mistress Carlotta."

"Yes milord." Captain Larsen slowly walked the deck alongside the Prince's principal Minister. Behind him, hat in hand, followed _Lyn's_ cargo master, Hans Sael.

Looking about at the tattered sails and decks still encrusted in places with salt, Lord Grimsby shook his head, a look of dismay clouding his face. "No, no, I am afraid that this will not do at all. We all know what a special day tomorrow will be for the Prince and especially his young fiancée."

"Milord," Captain Larsen responded respectfully, "I greatly regret the storms with which we have contended on our return voyage, but I assure you that we have returned in time to make _Lyn_ ready again for sea by tomorrow morning." He paused, staring at a splintered spar. "Though it may look dire, the damage is actually little, and what of it there is should be easily be mended by dusk. In the meantime, the cleaning and outfitting for tomorrow's voyage should begin shortly." Looking out toward the road to Christiansted, he pointed to several wagons and riders approaching the Palace. "Those wagons will be the sailors I've sent for from town, men well suited to the task.

"Hmmm." Grimsby paused, assessing the approaching teams with a skeptical eye as he drew upon his pipe. "Very well Captain, so long as the _Lightning_ is cleaned and made suitable for the Princess before we sail by tomorrow morning. This shall be Princess Ariel's first birthday with the Prince and he deeply wishes to surprise her with this voyage, her very first."

"Yes milord." The Captain responded, bowing to the Prince's Minister. "I assure you that everything will be made ready." He paused. "Has the date been set then milord? I've seen nothing published and heard no announcement."

Lord Grimsby nodded politely to the Captain and Sael, then continued, smiling slightly "No, no date has been set. Though I must say that two young people more deeply in love I think I have never seen. I cannot imagine that it should be very long now." He paused, then continued wistfully "Indeed, I had rather hoped they might wed tomorrow, but the Prince felt that the Princess deserved a birthday that was solely hers, and not one shared with the day of her wedding."

"Ah." Larsen nodded. "But we should all hope the announcement comes soon. An heir would give us all so much more hope than we have had these many years."

Grimsby nodded solemnly. "Captain, I hesitate to change the subject, but wished you to know that both the Prince and I are very glad, very grateful, that you and the men of the _Lightning_ have returned safely from this errand." He smiled wryly. "In fact, the Prince has asked me repeatedly about your health and wellbeing since he first learned of the delay and the storms, most especially if there were any injured or lost. He has even asked to speak to you personally Captain."

Captain Matthias Larsen had known Prince Eric since the young man's first voyages in the royal yacht out of København. Later it had been sloops, frigates and once even a ship-of-the-line. That was before everything fell apart, when the Prince's far-flung appanage unexpectedly became his permanent residence in exile. So it came as no surprise that the Prince had asked after not only him, but his men, men the Prince had known and sailed with most of his life. The Captain smiled and bowed to Lord Grimsby with a flourish of his hat. "Yes, of course milord, I shall make arrangements to personally report the results of our voyage to the Prince at once."

Lord Grimsby nodded again politely to the Captain, before turning and climbing the stone steps to the Eastern Hall of the Palace. Finally, he disappeared into the deep morning shadow that enveloped the entrance archway.

Larsen turned then to Sael. "Well, Hans, I should think our tasks clear. Have you any questions?"

Holding his hat, Sael responded, "No sir, I'll see ta' th' delivery of th' Prince's special cargo ta Mistress Carlotta. We'll be clearing th' rest of th' cargo from th' quay and dock as quick as can be."

"Do you think we can do it?" Larsen asked, almost to himself, following a long pause.

"Sir, make _Lyn_ ready? Why aye sir, surely! T'will be a special day, indeed one to remember, and a terrible shame were anything ta spoil it."

"Very well then Hans. Let's get at it." Larsen said, a small amount of optimistic cheer now growing in his voice.

"Aye Captain!" Hans replied with a surety the origin of which he could not really determine.

Sael had sailed with Larsen and Prince Eric since long before the tragedy of 1801. He had seen the lad, the Prince, always quite responsible and conscientious, grow into a man of equally strong moral character and courage. He remembered the awkwardness of Prince Eric's youth and how quickly the boy had later taken to the ways and customs of the sea. Already the Prince was a decent sailor and even sea captain, and would no doubt be a great one if time and the wars would give him the chance. A fine schoolhouse for a ruler of men the sea was.

It was unusual for such business to swirl about the eastern quay. Such movement of men, wagons and boats was more commonly seen in ships at anchor than those moored at the Christiansborg Slot, yet today the quay of the palace bustled with the movement of cargos. On that morning Prince Eric's ship _Lyn_ had returned to Sankt Croix from an errand, having been delayed by squalls on her return voyage from both Boston and Philadelphia. The Prince had not sailed with _Lyn_, for he had remained in the Christiansborg Palace with his betrothed.

Not a cloud in the sky, Hans thought, looking up at the Sun high above the palace. Truly, there wasn't even a hint of cloud in the sky above, though thankfully a light breeze tugged at the graying red of his beard. The day promised to be a hot one, as were most in these southerly climes, though the recent days had been unusually warm for this late in the year. So unlike home, Hans thought.

About the docks Hans' men busied themselves offloading various cargoes and sundries from _Lyn_. As soon as that task was complete, provisions would be brought aboard for the next day's voyage. One shipment in particular, several ornate boxes and crates, were being loaded onto a cart. These crates were the fruits of Prince's errand, and they would be sent to Mistress Carlotta as Lord Grimsby had ordered. Indeed, Hans already had set that very delivery in motion before the Minister had arrived to personally inspect the newly arrived ship and question her Captain.

As Sael slowly surveyed the cargo laid out across the quay he caught a glimpse of something bright red out of the corner of his right eye, a red that he had only seen a handful of times before, and then only at a distance. It was an unmistakable color caught somewhere between that of fired brick and low flame that belonged to a person, and only one person … the mysterious Princess. Hans' heart stopped for a moment, for as he looked up, he saw the lovely maiden walking with care among the barrels and crates. The girl's immaculate light blue dress stood out distinctly and brightly against the brown and earthen tones of the quay, the cargoes, and the sweaty longshoremen and sailors; she held its hem elegantly as she walked. Leaning forward onto an upended crate that came to barely above his waist, Sael just stood there, watching her.

It was the first time that Hans had been able to see the Princess this close, though he had heard much already of her beauty and demeanor. The Captain of the Guard had told him in passing before _Lyn_ had sailed that she had a sweet, unassuming innocence about her, along with a curiosity and adventurous spirit very unusual for a young woman. Apparently, the soldiers of the palace guard had learned to be extremely watchful for her when she was about alone, for she had the distressing habit of finding trouble of almost every kind, most often when she seemed completely unaware that any danger was at hand.

Her name was known to be "Ariel," nothing more. Sael had heard the name before, remembering it from the Good Book itself, yet it was the name of a man, of a city, of an angel, not a name given to a young woman. It was a name that that Englishman had given to an airy sprite in a play, the title of which eluded the old man. _"Ariel,"_ he thought. So odd, yet so beautiful a name, and now that he had seen the girl so close, Hans found it somehow strangely appropriate. There seemed a lovely song in the sounds of that name that seemed somehow fitting to the innocent beauty and demeanor of maiden he saw now before him.

The Princess continued to explore the bustling quay, looking down the stone steps to the ornate wooden dock below, and then to the boats coming to and from _Lyn. _A pained expression crossed her face for a few moments as she looked downward, perhaps considering descending those stairs; but her attention was then drawn back to the quay. The sailors from Christiansted were disembarking from their wagons, and the girl's attention seemed seized by this new activity.

It was then that Hans noticed the furtive glances and increasingly more pronounced stares from some of the men about the quay, all of which the young woman seemed utterly oblivious to, so absorbed was she in her explorations. Sael too found himself mesmerized, almost unable to move as he watched the young princess peer with what could only be described as a look of wonderment into a common barrel, and then puzzle at, kneel, and reach out almost fearfully to touch a cargo net that lay limp nearby on the quay, as though it might leap up and bite her. More and more as he watched, the girl reminded him somewhat of his own daughter, mainly for her youth and seeming gentleness, for though Elna's eyes had been blue, her hair had been blonde, like that of her mother, and nothing like the fiery mane that this young beauty wore.

As Hans gathered his wits about him, he felt embarrassed that he had been so obviously staring at the young woman. He looked away, having to force himself to act. "So tha' is Prince Eric's wife ta be," he thought "and such rumors swirlin' abou' 'er." He could see why. The Princess, for she was said to be a princess in her own right from some mysterious kingdom across the sea, was perhaps the most beautiful young woman Sael had ever laid eyes upon. _Across the sea _… yes. That was what the folk were saying in _polite_ talk.

He and most of the men of _Lyn_ had not been aboard the royal barge during the strange failed wedding weeks ago, but he like the others had heard the tales that came of it … tales of witchcraft and monsters of the abyss. The rumors were many, and had spread even before the Prince's return from the deep that terrible night, when a wild storm had sprung up from the Atlantic and tore at Christiansted like only the worst hurricanes of memory.

Over the side the Prince had gone, folk said. Some said he was pulled over by a monster, while others maintained he went of his own will. Some said it was for a girl he went, a beautiful one with striking red hair and brilliant blue eyes. Some said that it was after no maiden at all, but a mermaid.

A mermaid … a daughter of the Sea, always Sael had known that they were real, for his father had held him many a time on his knee following a long voyage reeling off the many tales of Davy Jones' locker and the folk of the great deep. And there she was, just yards away from him, watching attentively now as two hands manhandled large barrels onto a wagon. As she moved to gain a better view, her steps took her to the bottom of the two long rails that the men were using to roll the barrels up to the back of the wagon.

"Not a good place fer 'er ta be if tha' barrel get loose." Sael thought. Quickly he loosened his legs and strode the several yards to her, passing around several crates and barrels along the way.

The young woman smiled sweetly as she watched the men's' efforts innocently yet keenly from behind.

Sael recognized both men immediately, even from behind, for both were seasoned seamen well regarded by Hans and their mates. Neither seemed to be aware of the Princess' presence, so absorbed they were in their task and conversation. Hans was about to chide them to have a care for their unannounced guest when he finally caught wind of their conversation, and again he froze as his heart sank, realizing about what they were speaking … arguing actually.

"And what is it that makes you so sure of yourself Henrik? Rumors at the pub? Scuttlebutt in the hold one night over too much rum?" The older, stouter man chided the other mirthfully as he anchored the barrel and began tying it down, never looking up. If you ask me, the Prince has just found himself a fine young maid to make a good life with, and that's good for all of us. Don't go believing bad rumors unless you've a good reason."

"I do ha' a good reason. Why did he go over the side tha' night like he was mad? How is it tha' all these years not a one woman caught his fancy, but now he's ta' tie the knot all a sudden? Witch's work it was … is … a siren's song."

Hans' eyes darted to the young woman in front of him. Whereas her every movement before had suggested a sweet and happy curiosity, she stood now utterly motionless before him. As the moment drew on, he could see her shoulders begin to sag and her right hand which had been raised to her shoulder now wavered uncertainly in the air. Being behind her, though, he couldn't see the girl's face.

"The young lady went over the side first they say, into the sea wroth with the tempest. If he loved her it was his duty to save her, was it not? Would you not have done so for that pretty thing in Fredricksted you've been seeing?" he asked, then smiled wryly_, "_Besides,_ Bange hjarte vandt aldrig fager mö."_He paused again, remembering Henrik's lapsed Danish with no small amount of satisfaction_, "_A faint heart never won a fair lady, lad!" he laughed in his heavily inflected English.

"_Æt able som är rödt, er ofta råddent indvendigt__," _Henrik spat back angrily. Then as Edvin had, he followed with the English, "A fair face and a foul heart." Henrik stared at the older man who looked up at him now from the wagon bed. The younger man's fists clenched and muscles tightened as his anger grew, "I ain't been to no pub since we made port this morning, and I ain't had no rum, all on account tha' I've been here sweating my arse off with the likes of you and everyone else off of _Lyn_ to get things ready for the 'morrow. And, asides, I'm just saying wha' the others done tol' me. Master Poulsen himsel' told me everything he saw tha' night. He was there Edvin, on the weddin' barge! Didn't you hear none of it at all?"

Henrik stood abruptly to his full height and faced the older man, his back glistening with sweat in the hot morning sun." They ain't no rumors Ed. They's all true. A monster out of the deep is wha' tha' _princess_ is. Caught the Prince's heart up in a spell she did, and mad it has him, bound to bring all o' us down too wi' 'im, straigh' ta Hell."

Hans saw the young woman flinch and stagger as though she had been struck. Ariel's girlish sob startled all three men as the maiden began to back away from the wagon, but just then the heel of her right shoe caught the very net which she had been so closely examining just a minute before. Her legs twisted … then buckled. A great mass of soft red hair flung through the air as the girl's body spun and plummeted to the hard stone quay as her deepening sobs turned into a startled cry.

Spryer than he could have hoped for Sael's sixty-four year old legs proved in that moment, for he literally threw himself across the eight feet between himself and the girl, his back smashing into the hot, hard stone and nets as the young woman landed on his chest, caught up in arms both long hardened and withered by the sea. Something akin to fire erupted between his left shoulder and spine, but the man's mind was fully upon the girl now in his arms.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Ariel lay there as she waited for the ground to hit her. She had fallen before, and the harder the ground, the more it had hurt. Sometimes, most of the time actually, Eric had thankfully been there to catch her.

"Eric?" she asked softly as she slowly opened her eyes.

Indeed, someone had caught her, but it wasn't Eric. It was a man. And this man was … old, old like her father and Grimsby, maybe even older, and his eyes were closed as though expecting some great blow. Instantly her heart went out to him, for the face she saw was very wrinkled, rough, and discolored. She wondered if … if it hurt, to look like that.

Perhaps for her own good it was a blessing that she didn't know, couldn't know the pain and the burden that Hans Rubert Sael's many years had weighed upon him.

Sael opened his eyes as soon as he realized that they were clenched tight. Two rather stunning yet also very innocent blue eyes peered back at him, albeit now somewhat wet and red. They were staring at him with a strange intensity and curiosity, as though studying him like something never before seen. The girl lay mostly across him, her slender arms resting across his chest where she had fallen. Sael managed a slight but uncertain smile and let loose his arms around her as she looked downward toward them.

As he did so, Ariel realized that this man had not only broken her fall but had actually caught her in mid-air. Looking back toward him, she realized then that of him, only his eyes didn't seem old. They were a pale blue and full of life, very much like Eric's, but his hair and beard were a somehow odd faded red, like her father's had been when she had been very young, before it had gone white. He wasn't a handsome man like her father, nor even a particularly big man, but there was a kindness about him that made her feel sad in looking upon him, and strangely, rather safe in his arms. Almost without thinking, she reached out gently to touch the old man's wizened face, fascinated by its many crevices and faults. He looked back at her quietly as she explored the aged lines of his face beneath her fingers. All was silent about them.

"Are ya' hurt, dear?" Sael asked roughly after a perhaps half a minute, laboring to regain his wind while also trying to maintain a fatherly calm in his voice. The girl, the Princess he reminded himself, looked down at him, returning his kindness with her own uncertain smile."

"I don't think so." Ariel replied quietly, wondering who her benefactor was and looking toward the hard stone upon which he lay, which she would have met most unpleasantly had it not been for him. "Thank you," she said quietly, but then remembered the cause of her fall and her earlier distress. Her head drooped. Ariel felt the urge to cry and fought it, now wishing more than ever that Eric was there with her. She felt herself gently set aside, then gingerly lifted by her forearms until she was standing again.

"Edvin Møller an' Henrik Knudsen, you two wi' loose minds an' wagging mouths, do ya' see wha' ya' ha' done?!" Sael yelled, turning to the two men.

Ariel flinched at the old man's harsh booming voice.

"Saying such awful things as no man ought ta abou' a fine lady, an' a Princess no less! Aye, I heard all o' it. At least you Edvin had th' sense ta' not listen ta' every glib tongue, but you young Knudsen, take a step closer."

Hesitantly, the man stepped toward them from the back of the wagon until he was just over an arm's length from Sael and Ariel, who Hans steadied gently as she tried to avoid looking at her accuser.

"Now, there. Ha' a look a' her ya' knothead. Does she look like a witch ta you now?! Shall I tell ya wha' she looks like?" Sael paused for a moment, fire erupting in his previously placid eyes, "My daughter, tha's what!"

Ariel looked up at the old man. _"His daughter?"_ she thought.

Knudsen stood his ground, the look on his face telling both Sael and Ariel that the young man wasn't convinced.

"Please … stop ..." Ariel half cried, catching herself and forcing her tears down.

Sael stilled himself, looking to her and waiting for her to speak. "Princess, can I …?"

"No … please …" she whispered.

Sael nodded, slowly releasing her now that he was sure she wouldn't fall again, though she still looked quite shaken. She was a princess after all, and not the sort a common man such as he ought to be laying his hands upon.

Looking toward Knudsen and the other man with whom he had been speaking, she spoke softly, yet more forcefully. "It's not true, what you said. I'm _not_ a _witch_. I'm a good person, a good girl. Just … just … a girl. What have I done that is so wrong for you to say those terrible things about me?" The girl paused, obviously struggling to control her tears. "Please don't hate me. This is all that I've ever wanted, just … just …" she sobbed, "… to be here."

She struggled to contain her anguish, feeling her heart pounding within her chest and deeply wishing Eric were there with her. What if the humans rejected her? What would happen to Eric if the other humans took her away from him? Could they?

"Princess …" Sael started.

"_Ariel_ … my name is _Ariel_." she whispered, choking back a sob.

Even fighting her tears, the girl's voice was beautiful. Indeed, it was even lovelier than Hans could even have imagined, so very human, yet somehow also … angelic. _"A mermaid,"_ he thought_. "A princess of mermaids …"_ he realized.

"Umm. Aye. Princess … then if ya' insist, err … _Ariel_." Sael stumbled, then with a quick and wicked eye turned his attention and ire to the two seamen who had been the cause of this all. Both stood there now, staring at both him and the young beauty beside him.

"So then, it's proverbs tha' are yer play, eh ya' two? Well the old Seadog ha' jus' a couple fer th' both o' ya' tha' his old papa taught 'im when he was jus' a tyke, and these are mainly fer you young Knudsen, insulter o' princesses. _ 'Det mål, I måler med, med skal I self få tilmålt'._ Remember tha' one knothead? 'Whatever measure ya deal out ta others'll be dealt back ta ya'?"

"And fer one last good measure, ya' had best remember this one, '_Du skal nog få kärligheden at föle'." _Wha' does tha' one mean, lunkhead?

Surprisingly, Knudsen looked back for a moment then spat back out_. "_If you do good, good will be done to you."

"And ya' ain't done no good a' all today." Hans continued.

"Look at th' young Lady an' I'll ask ya' again, does she loo'k like some sort o' witch to you, some sort o' monster like ya said?! Ya' heard her yerself jus' now. Did she seem like somethin' foul? O' course she don't, on account tha' she's a young woman, and tha' young woman is going ta be yer princess and someday, God willing, yer queen. So have a care with yer idiot's tongue if ya' wan' ta keep it."

It was quiet then for what seemed a long time. Hands from the quay had gathered around and as Ariel looked up she realized that every eye was upon her. Never before had she found herself the object of such cold scrutiny by humans. Not that she remembered at least. Yet, she thought, she was human too now, wasn't she?

Her thoughts were interrupted as a commotion erupted on the palace side of the gathered men. In the distance one voice sounded clearly to her above and through the din, a voice that called her by her _name_.

_"Ariel!" _

It was Eric's voice. Instinctively the maiden turned her head, trying desperately to find him but finding herself unable to see through the confusion of the crowd.

_"Eric!"_ she replied, but half-sobbed and in a wavering voice, one that was all but drowned out by the tumult that had erupted about her.

The disturbance grew quickly in intensity until finally several young soldiers of the guard broke through the throng. They surrounded her while others grabbed the old man and pulled him away from her side.

_"N ... no … please!"_ she cried, not wanting him to be hurt, especially after he had kept her from harm and then fought so hard with the other men to defend her from their accusations.

An instant passed before Ariel recognized the young man at the soldiers' lead. It was the Captain of the Palace Guard, Derek Carlson, giving orders in that other language Eric sometimes spoke that she didn't understand. In his right hand he bore a naked sword, one very bright, and no doubt very deadly. She blanched at the sight of it.

Then a strong sense that this was not the first time she had seen him nor that blade so closely washed over her, washed over her like the in-rushing tide, bringing with it the sudden memory of him speaking to her, worry in his eyes. She couldn't place it. Had he? If so, when? For a moment Ariel felt her gaze drawn to that blade, fixating upon it, captivated by its strange brightness, burning in the morning sun.

"Princess, are you hurt?" he asked, turning toward her and jarring her from her absorption, his voice stern and his eyes alight with both ire, and concern.

"N … no …!" she cried, regaining her senses, "… he didn't _hurt_ me. I fell and he _caught me_! _Please_ don't _hurt _him!"

A look of incredulity hovered in the officer's eyes as he continued to press his concerns. "Princess, have _any_ of these men harmed you?"

"No, no … I'm _alright_. No one has _hurt_ me!" Ariel replied desperately, _"Please let them go?"_ she begged.

Behind the Captain, the mass of remaining sailors and workmen drew away, falling back to either side as silence fell once again upon the quay. Through their far side just beyond the palace archway came Eric, forcing his way through the remaining sailors and landsmen. He also brandished an unsheathed sword; one that Ariel recognized, one that she knew from personal and painful experience to be very, very sharp.

In an instant he was at her side, wrapping his arms about her and looking to Carlson, to whom he handed off his blade. Like the Captain and the soldiers now surrounding her, he was breathing heavily, as though he had run a distance at great speed.

"Sweetheart, are you alright? What happened? Why were you out here, I've been looking for you all morning!?"

Ominously, Ariel said nothing, but instead hesitated for a moment before quickly nestling herself against him.

Again she struggled to contain her emotions … and her tears. She wouldn't let them see her cry, she just wouldn't. She had already shed enough tears and endured enough _fear _and _pain_ to simply _become_ one of them in the first place. But maybe for that very reason, their ignorance of what she had suffered, their rejection hurt so much more than it might otherwise have. These were _her_ humans, and they all _feared_ her … they all _hated_ her.

Shortly thereafter, the guards quickly began dispersing the crowd, setting the men back to their labor. The Captain spoke briefly to Sael and Knudsen, but all of their words remained in that other language, whereupon their eyes turned to the Princess and Prince.

"Maybe not a witch" muttered a voice, Knudsen's voice. "…but a _sirene_." he continued. Staring at her, "a _mer-maid_," he added very slowly for emphasis.

Now it was Ariel who stood there transfixed in Eric's embrace, staring back at her accuser. Did they_ all_ already know the truth about her, the truth that Eric and Aubrey had wished to conceal until some better time? In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to flee, to flee that place, even to flee the palace, her heart breaking at having to deny what she was … what she had for so long been, simply so that this man, so that Eric's people, wouldn't _hate_ her … would _accept _her.

"Hans, what is happening here?" the Prince asked forcefully.

Gathering his hat into his hands, Sael looked respectfully toward the Prince. "Yer Highness, there was a bit o' a misunderstandin' on th' part o' some o' th' boys abou' th' happenins on th' night o' th' las' storm." Sael paused, "On th' weddin' barge I mean."

Eric paused to take in Sael's words. Then, darkly and with a strange menace in his voice the likes of which Ariel had never before heard, he continued "What sort of … _misunderstanding_?"

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**Author's Note:** _Sometimes, a single word may hide an entire story behind it. _

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**_Acknowledgments and Credits:_**

**_Cover Art:_**_ The cover art is "An Old Man" by _mystic-portal _deviantart com._

_The link to the original is _mystic-portal deviantart com/art/An-old-man-67302497

**_Creative Contributions:_**_ Other than Shakespeare, none that seem immediately apparent in this chapter._

_In many places my stories may allude to or reference others' works, and sometimes perhaps even echo them and the themes they offer. This is my way of recognizing those works for touching my heart, for in some way seeming so right to me that they must be within the world that I am portraying, for being so beautiful that they must be experienced. That they are something Ariel and Eric deserve, no matter whose imagination conjures them and their adventures together._


	2. Chapter 2 - Misunderstandings

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

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**Sael**

**Chapter 2 – Misunderstandings**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 9:55 a.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Carlotta Grimaldi climbed the carpeted marble stairs carrying fresh linens in her arms as she made her morning rounds inspecting the work of the housekeeping staff. In particular her concern was that the needs of a very special guest of the House were being met, even if the girl in question would never have herself asked for anything. Carlotta smiled to herself as she thought of her young charge.

Within Christiansborg Palace, golden sunbeams flooded through the wide arched windows of the mostly unused Audience Hall, revealing a myriad of dust motes dancing in the air beneath them. Each golden fleck followed upon the cool drafts that pervaded that cavernous chamber in the mornings. It was ever thus, the sun rising in the east toward which nearly all the windows of the East Wing faced. Only the inner halls and stairs of the palace remained darkened in the hopeful shadows of morning.

Rain showers were common in the Jomfruøerne which had only small variations in rainfall throughout the year and indeed the days had been cooling ever so slightly as what passed for winter in these climes approached.

Thus the unusually dry and hot spell that had beset Sankt Croix these last few weeks was fast becoming distressing to the island's inhabitants, for most of whom spring, fall and winter were merely lost memories.

These had lived in the Isles most or all of their lives and had never even seen the Old World. Indeed, the enslaved majority of the island's population had come from southern climes that had never seen the fall of a leaf, nor a flake of snow.

Coming to the landing above the Dance Hall, Carlotta carefully inspected the foyer, ensuring that the etched plate of the Paladins had been polished and that the paintings and decorations of the vestibule had been cleaned and adjusted as needed. Not wishing to delay tending to her beloved guest, Carlotta climbed the final flight of stairs to Ariel's bedchamber. Coming to the door, she knocked gently.

"Princess, good morning …, it's me … Carlotta …" she said with not a small amount of motherly affection in her voice. She let the words linger in the air, only to be answered by silence. "Ariel dear … are you awake?" she followed, now becoming a bit concerned.

From what Carlotta had learned through the past few weeks, Ariel tended to sleep in, usually the result of late evenings spent with Eric in the palace library or music room with either Carlotta or Grimsby attending as chaperone. Last night had been such a night. Eric and Ariel had danced most of the evening. Later, he had accompanied her on the piano as she sang, and her hauntingly beautiful voice had echoed through the halls of the Christiansborg until the late hours. At last, the Princess' eyes had grown heavy and she had reluctantly agreed to retire. Eric had then walked her to her bedchamber before he himself had also gone to bed; Ariel had not been alone in her exhaustion from what had been a joyful day.

Eric's courtship of the young woman seemed to be revealing ever deeper affinities between the two, so natural was their rapport and concern for one another. The two had become inseparable over the past several weeks, and only sleep, Eric's private matters of state, and Ariel's discovery of the inconveniences of life as a human woman had so far been able to part them.

Their late explorations into the evenings often brought them back late enough to cause some concern, if not for their safety, then for Ariel's reputation. With the rumors such as they were going about, some of them quite true Carlotta noted, Ariel needed to take every care to guard her honor.

Honor. The concept had mystified the former mermaid when the Housekeeper had tried to explain it to her weeks ago; simply put, it was expected and required of a Princess to retain her innocence before and during marriage to ensure the purity of the royal bloodline. While she had not quite grasped the meaning and nuances of this new quality which she had gained by becoming human, it was an obligation that Ariel had freely and happily accepted as a consequence of her new life.

That Ariel was innocent Carlotta had no doubt, both in the conventional and the intimate senses of the word. From the few conversations that Carlotta had had with the girl regarding intimacy, it was obvious to the woman that Ariel knew little of even the intimate affairs of her own kind, let alone those of humanity. Charmingly, the young woman seemed only to take notice of Eric, this despite the presence of the many handsome young soldiers and men within the Palace and nearby Christiansted.

Of course Carlotta found this delightful; for she hadn't a doubt about either of her two children … and she considered them such. Eric's conduct was beyond reproach and the boy had been a perfect gentleman to his young bride-to-be, but his sterling character alone would not stop wagging and malicious tongues. A young woman's reputation was precious … and irretrievable if tarnished. Carlotta reminded herself that men often dueled to the death over such matters of honor, so serious they were. She shuddered at that, having no doubt that her boy would defend his love's honor with his life, if ever it were to be challenged.

_Her_ boy. Carlotta smiled wistfully and laughed to herself with such pride as only a mother ought to have. Eric had might as well have been her boy, she thought, reflecting with pride on her role in his life these many years after Princess Sophia had perished so horribly. The first Christiansborg palace in København had burned over a decade ago, and since then Carlotta had raised the young man as not just a matter of practical fact, but as a matter of motherly love. Truly, it was a blessing from heaven above to have once again not only a son, but a daughter, even if the reality was only in her simple love for them both.

Carlotta opened the door taking care not to startle the girl, for she half expected to find young Ariel still asleep from last night. Instead, her eyes widened as she surveyed the Guest Room, for it was empty … and Ariel's bed neatly made. It was as it had been when the Housekeeper left it late yesterday morning. Now a hint of worry for the girl rose within Carlotta's heart. Surely Ariel must have slept there last night. After all, Eric himself had taken her to her room and reported to Carlotta and Grimsby that he had done so; she had been safely in her room before Eric too had retired. Indeed the boy had noted with a look of profound disappointment that Sergeant Lundgren had interrupted the two just before they had arrived at Ariel's door. So the Palace Guard was watching after her as expected. What danger to the girl could there then be?

But if Ariel had slept there last night, the bed would have been unmade, wouldn't it? After all it was only yesterday morning that Carlotta had taught the young woman the commoner's art of bed making. It was a task most unsuited to the hands of a noblewoman, let alone a princess. But then again, she thought, this was no ordinary princess … this was Ariel. At the girl's insistence the Housekeeper had finally relented. Then a thought dawned on Carlotta. The housekeeper opened Ariel's wardrobe closet, finding to her relief the gown she had worn the previous night hanging neatly therein. Moreover, the pretty blue dress and shoes the Housekeeper had placed there last night were absent. Ariel must have spent the night in her room, but left some time ago.

Carlotta smiled, though concern still lingered in the back of her mind. It occurred to her that perhaps Ariel was bathing, a habit to which the young woman had taken after rising in the mornings to Carlotta's gentle awakenings. Normally, those awakenings came later on Saturdays, but perhaps Ariel had risen earlier this morning. The woman descended the stair after closing the door to Ariel's room. Coming to the second floor landing again, she turned and walked through the shadowed archway and outward to the skywalk.

The ornamental bathhouse was one of Carlotta's favorite places in the palace. It lay at the end almost of a magnificent skywalk that strode across a many-ached colonnade, its marble and golden stone held aloft by great buttresses of rough stone masonry. By far, it was the most spectacular and defining aspect of the Christiansborg. Along either side of the skywalk stood a row of fine cherry trees, now green, but in full blossom they lined the skywalk like a pink and white ceremonial guard. Quite ahead of season they had been in full blossom just weeks ago when little Ariel had first come into their lives. Carlotta thought back to that day and smiled to herself. The look in the girls' weary eyes upon first seeing the flowering cherry trees and the breathtaking vista provided by the skywalk could be only described as one of unbridled awe and wonder.

As the Housekeeper stepped out onto the skywalk, her skirts were caught by the freshening sea breeze, forcing her to hold them down as she proceeded to the bathhouse door; far beneath her, Carlotta could hear the waves crashing ashore. For a moment she looked out upon the cloudless blue sky and the dark azure sea beneath it. Coming to the door she put her right hand to the handle, then knocked gently with her left. Hearing nothing in reply, she entered the bathhouse … only to find it as empty the bedchamber had been before.

Disappointed, true concern rose to the fore of Carlotta's mind. "_Where could that girl be?" _she asked herself worriedly, concluding at the back of her mind that the young princess must be wandering again. It was an adorable yet also troubling trait in the young woman, her unbridled curiosity and eagerness to explore her new world. The Housekeeper entertained the small hope that Eric had somehow gathered Ariel up this morning before she had arrived, but Eric had always informed Carlotta of the couple's plans for the day. Today was to be a mid-morning picnic at the cliffs beneath the cherry trees, followed by a carriage ride about the island. The two had planned no early departure.

Carlotta left several of the towels in the bathhouse linen rack before leaving and exiting the chamber for the Guest Wing. Returning through the archway, she entered the stairwell and quickly descended to the landing and onward through the Great Hall. As she crossed the polished dance floor, her gaze happened to pass through one of the arched windows and out to the quay and dock beyond. She froze, the sight of the unmistakable red fire of Ariel's hair instantly seizing her attention. All about the girl rough-looking men and sailors were hard at work going about their business; and in that brief moment as the Housekeeper watched she realized that not a few of them had fixed their eyes upon the young princess. Carlotta found herself feeling uneasy about the looks in some of the nearby men's eyes, as they looked back and forth to one another then leered back at Ariel.

_"Oh dear. That's no place for the poor thing."_ Carlotta worried to herself. _"What is she up to now?"_

But as she watched, something in Ariel's stance began to alarm Carlotta. Something seemed … amiss, something in how the girl now held herself. Suddenly, Ariel recoiled and turned as though to run from the two men toward whom she had been facing. Then a third man threw himself at the girl, driving her down to the hard stone below as Carlotta heard the girl's scream muffled by the walls window glass.

**"Ariel!"** the Housekeeper screamed, dropping the remaining towels to the tile. For a brief moment she considered herself rushing to Ariel's aid, but thought better of it. These were hard men, many of them dangerous when violent … certainly more than she could handle. Turning, Carlotta flew across the dance floor, through the grand foyer and out into the courtyard, all the while screaming "Guards, Captain, Eric, help…!" at the top of her lungs again and again as she ran.

Bursting into the courtyard, she was shocked to find herself face-to-face with the very man she was seeking. Captain Carlson knelt beside Eric painstakingly inspecting the newly rebuilt carriage, though both had now fixed their attention to the Grand Entrance at the sound of the Housekeeper's panicked voice. Eric's sword lay half unsheathed upon the driver's seat, gleaming in the morning sun.

"Carlotta," Eric asked with alarm as he stood, "What is it, what's wrong?" He had seldom if ever seen the woman who had raised him suffering so from a loss of her composure.

Grimsby's voice joined Eric's from the balcony to her right "Carlotta, do calm yourself, dear." Then, with no less concern, he added "Precisely _what_ is the matter?"

"It's … Ariel" the Housekeeper panted. "She's out above the East Dock … on the quay … and … there are men …" she gasped for breath "… attacking her."

"What?!" Eric cried. Reaching for his sword, the Prince turned to Captain Carlson, gesturing with his head to follow. "Derek … let's go!"

"Yes Sire!"Leaping off at a sprint, the officer turned his head to the main gatehouse before following his liege,** "You four, follow me!" **Then he turned and disappeared into the of the soldiers grabbed their weapons and dashed after their Captain and Prince.

For a moment, Eric turned and looked back, "Max." he cried, "Come on boy! Ariel's in trouble."

Max's head poked around the livery corner, after which the sheephound came bursting out from behind the structure, barking in an uncharacteristically vicious fashion. Eric turned and launched himself through the threshold of the entrance, shortly followed by Carlson, his four men, and Max. Carlotta hastened after them. Alarm bells now rang from the gate towers and were quickly answered from the palace towers and watches.

"They … threw her down … after … after she tried to run." Carlotta panted as the men rushed past her, her heart pounding now so hard that she put her hand to her chest in a vain effort to stay the pain.

One after another the six men and dog sprinted through the Foyer and into the Audience Hall, the sound of their boots echoing from polished floor onto the high ceilings, crystal chandeliers and window glass. As Eric sprinted across the hall, he looked out the great windows onto the quay, there seeing some manner of disturbance about which was gathered a great throng of workmen.

Shortly behind him, Captain Carlson followed his Prince's gaze and saw the same scene, then called to the Prince now at his right. "Sire, let me and my men go first!"

"What are you talking about?! Eric yelled back "No!" Can't you see she's in danger Derek!"

**"Sire, I … must … insist."** the Captain returned "You've no idea of what … awaits you out there." He struggled to keep pace with the Prince, who he knew to be at least as fast a runner as he.

"Derek, I said no!" Eric responded.

"… and … as the chief Officer of your Bodyguard … I … have a responsibility to… keep … you … safe."At that final word, Derek grabbed Eric by the shirt collar, swinging the Prince around into the wall to the right of the archway leading out to the eastern quay, breaking Eric's motion as he did so with the cushion of his own body.

"_Damn you Derek_!" Eric screamed, "What the _Hell_ are you doing?!" Eric's alarm for Ariel's safety and surprise at the man's actions combined into an explosion of anger in the Prince at his Captain.

The four guardsmen surged past.

"Forgive me my Prince," Derek replied loudly, returning Eric's withering stare with his own, "… but I swore … that I would protect your life … even if it cost me my own." The Captain paused for but a second. "Let me and my men do our duty!" He then spun and followed his men through the archway.

Recovering himself, the furious prince dashed through the archway, calling out Ariel's name. Max was not far behind him barking furiously at first as he came, but then the dog went strangely silent. Eric hadn't the time to even note this change, for his attention was fully focused ahead. The sheephound followed Eric silently, and remained watchfully at his side.

Exiting onto the hot stone quay, he was greeted with the sight of the guardsmen grappling with several sailors and dock-hands; one in particular. Desperately, Eric searched the quay for his Ariel, seeing nothing but the press of men. Exasperated, the prince was about to start throwing men out of the way himself when Corporal Holm and his guardsmen pushed back the throng of men.

Ariel stood there at its center.

The girl was looking toward him when Eric saw her, her eyes meeting his as he forced his way through the now breaking crowd. She looked well, thank God, but on the verge of tears. It was then that Eric knew that something _had_ indeed happened. Concerned for Ariel's safety but sensing that the immediate danger had passed, Eric passed off his sabre to Derek and reached out to embrace her. With due care, the captain took the unsheathed blade firmly in hand while watching the surrounding crowd for threats.

As calmly as he could, Eric spoke to her, "Sweetheart, are you alright? What happened? Why were you out here, I've been looking for you all morning!?"To Eric's surprise, he felt Ariel hesitate for a moment before finally nestling into his arms.

Long moments passed while the sailors on the quay remained silent to a man. The morning sun beat down now against the yellow stone beneath them and every man now standing there could feel the furnace of a day that it would soon bring; but no man dared move an inch. One by one, the alarm bells ceased, until the distant mewing of the gulls and the flapping of sailcloth were the only sounds to be heard.

In his arms, Eric felt Ariel tremble as she pressed tightly against him, her arms tucked between his chest and her bosom, her hands folded gently beneath her chin. He could feel Ariel's soft breath against his chest, the gentle press of her body against his in a desperate need for closeness, her fragile stillness as she stood there wrapped within his arms.

Eric looked slowly up again at the man before him, the one the guards had separated from the other men and were now holding fast. It was Hans Sael. Again trying to maintain an air of calm in his voice, Eric looked at the old salt. "Hans, what is happening here?" he asked forcefully.

Sael twisted the hat he now held in his hands, looking back towards Eric with humility in his eyes and voice. "Yer Highness, there was a bit o' a misunderstandin' on th' part o' some o' th' boys abou' th' happenins on th' night o' th' las' storm." The old man paused for a moment**, **"On th' weddin' barge I mean."

Eric considered all of the possible meanings of Sael's word, _"misunderstanding,"_ and found most of them unacceptable. There had been rumors about that night passing about in the taverns and public spaces of Christiansted, rumors he as Prince was coming to terms with how to confront. Sael's words could mean anything, and Eric needed to know more. He fought to suppress the anger he felt rising within him, as he felt his fiancée's body trembling against his."What sort of … _misunderstanding_?" he asked slowly, and with great emphasis on the final word.


	3. Chapter 3 - Rejection

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 3 – Rejection**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 10:25 a.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

The distance from the courtyard balcony to the archway leading out onto the eastern quay was slightly shorter than that Eric had to cross. Unfortunately for the Prime Minister, Lord Grimsby, between the Royal Apartments and the Great Hall awaited the Grand Stair, a lovely marble affair that offered every opportunity to twist and snap the legs of a sixty-five year old man whose healthiest days now lay behind him. Rheumatism and gout had troubled Aubrey Beauclerk since his wife had run off with young Thomas Brand nearly thirty years ago leaving him alone and estranged from his family in England, not that he would be missed. It was not the only manner of illness to beset him; but at this moment it was by far the most pertinent. Beauclerk had not always been so frail. His thoughts centered on the young woman who had so recently become Prince Eric's guest, and it seemed, his fiancée, an unusual lady born of the sea who had chosen for her life and love to live in the dry world and far from the watery home of her birth. A Princess. "So rare as to be mythical. Indeed, the very stuff of fairy stories," he thought.

As he hastened along passing through the center hall, Grimsby's footsteps echoed from the parquet floors save where the rich carpet of Tyrian purple muffled their fall. All along the way, paintings of the great men of Danish and Norwegian history adorned the paneled walls, while busts of the Kings of the Royal House of Oldenburg sat in their alcoves, silhouetted in the deep morning shadows. He reminded himself of the illustrious past for which he had surrendered his seat in Parliament. Great Grimsby would miss him little, as had Catherine, yet he had found a new life here in the Caribbean … and a new hope for a new family … before his days ended.

Unlike his father, Beauclerk had never gone to sea in the ships of the Royal Navy. His interests had been in government, antiquities, and the arts; yet he had learned certain _other _arts from his father. These he had imparted to the young Prince after he first went into exile, when Grimsby's health had been much better. _"Old beanpole,"_ he mused to himself, seeing the bright light of the foyer ahead. He was much more dignified than that … and more than _that_ to be reckoned with.

As he strode on Grimsby found his pace quicken as his focus deepened and he considered his actions once he arrived_. "Threw her to the ground, did they?"_ he thought. _"What heathens and dastards would have thrown his young lady to the ground?"_ He asked himself, barely imagining the unsavory possibilities as he rounded the corner into the marbled upper foyer. _"Well, we shall soon see."_ he answered himself. Passing the statue of Holger Danske, he reached out and smoothly whipped an epée from its mounted sheath, never breaking his stride.

At last he confronted the Grand Stair, but to his great surprise and without hesitation flew down its winding curve, at last gaining the western side of the Great Hall; a feeling of both exhilaration and urgency suffused him.

As Grimsby entered the hall, the bright morning light streaming through that room's windows nearly blinded him, but not so much that he could not see several maids gathered near the great oaken double doors leading to the eastern archway. Raising his hand to shade his eyes, he saw that in their midst was Carlotta, whom they seemed to be supporting. He quickened his pace, kneeling at Carlotta's side and taking her by the arm, "Madame," he said with great concern, then more tenderly "Carlotta … are you well?" She was breathing heavily, as though laboring to catch her every breath. With a brief dour look, he shooed Gertrude and the other scullery maids away. All three quickly disappeared through the archway.

"I… I …" the Housekeeper panted but nodded in response to Grimsby's question, "Eric … " she paused, gulping another draught of air and pointing to the nearest window, "he's … outside."

Carlotta was relieved to have Grimsby there, though she felt alarmed at the naked blade in his hand. Why, it was almost absurd for _Aubrey_ to join a fight, the Blessed Virgin preserve them all against such a happening, she prayed. But then, she thought back to the raids of three years ago, and reconsidered her doubts.

"Ah, yes …" Grimsby replied looking out through the window and seeing Eric's figure standing backed by the Captain and a silent Maximillian, "I can see. Can you walk?" he asked her, his care for her clear in voice. She nodded and he carefully helped her to the archway. "If anything happens, my dear, do stay behind me." He added calmly. Coming to the half open doors, he listened, looked out, then slipped quietly through, bringing Carlotta along with his trailing hand.

Stepping through the open door and onto the quay, Carlotta felt the blast of hot air rolling up from the stone at their feet. She always avoided the _outside_ after the early morning and before the evenings, as the palace with its massive stonework and masonry was always kept cool by its Spanish tiled roof and sea breezes channeled by the wind towers. What greeted her and Aubrey was a great gathering of men, the very same workmen she had seen there before it seemed.

With his left hand, Aubrey gently and annoyingly tugged her behind him, so that she had to look over his shoulder to see what was happening. Nearby sat Max, just to Eric's right side. Captain Carlson was near his left with another man she didn't recognize standing in front of them. The Palace Guard had formed a line cordoning the ranks of workmen safely away from the Prince. Then, for just a moment Carlotta caught a glimpse of something like scarlet against Eric's left shoulder as he rocked a slender form gently within his arms, her sky blue dress and slight shoes completing Carlotta's view as the Housekeeper studied the scene. "Ariel," she thought.

The silence on the quay was deafening.

Hans stood there before the Prince and the Captain of the Guard, his buff shirt now drenched in sweat and his back stinging like it had been bitten by the lash. It was then that the sea breeze died. From above, the sun beat down relentlessly upon the pier such that the hundred and two score men gathered there almost as group felt its oppressive heat descend upon them; not a few exhaled wearily as this morning threatened to become a grueling nightmare.

For a moment Hans' mind went blank as he stood there before the Prince, beneath the gaze of an Eric he had never before seen. The old man was at a loss for words. This wasn't _his _Eric, was it, the young lad he had raised up on the ropes and knots, had seen run aloft in the shrouds? This was a stern man, an _angry _man; no longer a boy. For a moment he considered what Henrik had said, that Eric might actually be under the influence of some enchantment.

But as he watched the young woman in Eric arms, the old man felt pity in his heart. Such a slip of a girl she was, so small, so vulnerable; trying to hide there from the great cruel world that that had just bitten her like a pit viper, its poison now working in her veins on its way to her heart.

He remembered how he had felt when Elna had come to him like that, in tears after her three friends and Axel Nielsen had teased her, had laughed at her and flaunted that schemer Ingrid Lange before his little girl; and that but a year before the Lord took both Elna and her mother from him. Hans had known anger before, but never a rage like that.

_"No, no spells …,"_ Hans thought. _"… that boy is in love."_

Nielsen had never seen Hans' Elna again, and after Sael had finished with him, the young man had been lucky to ever see anything again. But Sael's men had not been teasing the Princess, had they? No, their words had been deadly serious with not a hint of mirth; not a thing one old man with wrapped fists and a few harsh words in a darkened barn could easily fix. _"What can I do to unravel this gnarl?"_ He thought.

Just two yards away Ariel had buried herself as deeply as she possibly could in Eric's arms, the last refuge that remained to her as the man's hateful words echoed over and over again in her mind.

_"Why did he said those things?!" _she cried to herself._ "I'm not … a … witch!_ _I'm nothing like … like … **her**! I'm just a girl … like I tried to tell him_." she agonized.

But then it occurred to her that _she wasn't, was she … just a girl_?

What could she even _say_ to these humans that might make them _understand_? Her mind raced, desperately seeking an answer, but found none. She was alien to these people, anything that she might say in her own defense would only turn Eric's people even more against her.

Ariel felt her new world darkening about her now, collapsing into a black abyss, an abyss rushing in to drown her every hope, to crush her every dream. She was going to lose Eric, she was going to lose her dreams; she was going to lose … _everything_.

Eric felt Ariel shudder with a single deep, heart-rending sob. Others swiftly followed as the girl broke down against him and wept uncontrollably. Looking down to her face hidden against his chest, he saw tears glistening in the sunlight upon her cheeks, running silently and freely from tightly closed eyes. Ariel's chest and shoulders heaved again and again with every sob that wracked her delicate frame. Whatever the men had done to her, whatever they had said to her, it had hurt her deeply … terribly.

The young prince felt a hot rage boiling up within himself, his anger at Carlson's previous affront compounding now to form a mighty storm of wrath within his soul … a wrath fierce enough to _kill_. It was a feeling he had had before, not just back during the raids, but also five weeks ago. It was then that he felt strangely glad that _Derek_ rather than _he_ had arrived at the quay first … and now held his sword.

With that fury in his eyes, Eric looked at the men gathered around him, _his_ men he realized, challenging any of them to dare say or do anything against the young woman that he now held sheltered within his arms. Many faces well known to him looked back; all he confronted lowered their eyes, withdrew their gazes; all save for one.

As his body and muscles tensed with this new flood of anger, Eric's turned his attention back to Ariel, still weeping though now almost silently within the safety of his embrace. His expression softened as he lowered his lips to the top of her head, gently kissing her. "Don't cry love … I've got you." He paused, holding her fast in his arms and against himself. "Whatever happened, I'll make it right … I promise." He tightened his embrace ever so slightly, not wanting to hurt her.

_"What can he possibly do?" _she thought as she tried to control her fear. Ariel felt Eric's gentle kiss as she struggled to regain her composure, heard his soft reassuring words, felt the strength of his arms around her; and despite the fact that she could herself find no escape from what was happening, forced herself to calm down, to have hope, and to trust him as he had asked.

Eric felt Ariel grow very still against him, a slight tremble passing through her. Already he had held her enough times before to know that she could be both very quiet, yet also very aware. He felt her calmness grow as she nestled against him, and that calm flowed into him. His fury ebbed somewhat as he looked up again and about, finally settling upon Sael. Then, in a calm yet firm voice he continued, "Hans, tell me what happened … now."

Hans found his attention torn now from the young woman back to the fierce eyes of the man he had known now for so many years, the man he himself had taught. "Ah, yes yer highness, le' me say firstly" he paused, "… that' it, it … weren't their fault … 'twas mine. I should a been a' mindin' at all their language and salty talk, 'specially since there was a Lady about."

Ariel felt her attention drawn outward again now at the sound of the old man's voice, so hoarse and rough it was. If she had known the sound of gravel underfoot it would have seemed to her a fair comparison. Every word the man spoke sounded as though it must hurt in its saying, and for at least that moment Ariel managed to choke back her own pain and wished she could go to him as he had to her. But a faint hope reached her through the old man's clipped and halting words. She remembered how he had looked back at her as she had touched his face, had looked at her like her father once had, before her mother had died … before her father had died with her. Not _all _humans hated her, she thought.

Sael paused again, "… the _Princess_ I mean." Thinking quickly, he continued. "Th' boys, they, uh, they didn't know she was ev'n there a'hind 'em, on account tha' they was hard a' work, getting'_ Lyn_ ready and all."

Eric's eyes never left Hans' as the Prince waited for the old man to continue.

"Well, ya' see yer highness, the lass was doin' nothin' wrong, just a looking' a' the goin's on abou' the quay."He stopped to wring his hat a bit, obviously growing more uncomfortable as he spoke. "And a couple o' the boys happened to be a talkin' abou' things they ha' heard a late."

"Which boys?" Eric asked tersely.

Hans lowered his eyes, and remained silent, no longer able to meet Eric's piercing gaze. The silence crept over everyone there again, leaving just the seabirds to be heard.

"It was me." A voice finally spoke."I was the one tha' said them things."The voice was Knudsen's, the one man who had refused to lower his eyes.

"Henrik," Eric said, almost in disbelief, staring back at the sailor."… you?!" he asked softly.

Ariel rested in the midst of Eric's embrace silently following Hans' words, not wanting to look at the men around her, any of them, lest she falter again, or again have to endure their frightening hard eyes. But _"Henrik,"_ she thought to herself. _"Eric called that human by his name_." Was her accuser someone that Eric … knew?

All eyes turned to Knudsen, who now held his hands at his sides in tight fists, his arms taut as he stared down at the tops of his brown boots, both firmly planted on the hot yellow stone of the quay. There before his Prince he stood, silent as the grave.

In Eric's arms, Ariel felt the closeness of his body but also its heat. She had always loved the sun from when it was a forbidden rarity in her life, its warmth so wonderful and pleasing in the benign radiance of its golden light. But now, she could feel it burning at her hands and neck, its warmth working its way through even the light silk of her dress and sleeves. Ariel felt almost as if it was eating at her, even as were the deadly gazes of the men she knew still surrounded her, staring at her mercilessly … and from whom she couldn't escape. Her throat and mouth felt so dry … parched. It was such an alien and frightening feeling to her, a girl who until a mere five weeks ago, had never left the embrace of the sea. Desperately, she wished for something cool to drink.

Long moments passed as Ariel suffered; everyone else on the quay waited in taut silence.

Sael had watched this scene unfold between the young Prince and his fiancée as had all the men about them. He had wanted to spare his men the consequences of insulting royalty, but now Knudsen had taken the matter out of his hands. Still, he thought, surely something had to be said, for this was going _nowhere_, and nowhere _fast_.

"Henrik," the old man started. "Do ya' remember when Prince Erik first came aboar' _Najaden_, when she ha' jus' been launched?"

Knudsen looked over towards Sael's voice. For a moment he paused as he listened, then nodded silently.

"A long time ago, weren't it?" Hans continued, looking then to Eric, shooting the prince an unexpected entreaty to join in.

For a moment Eric, half lost himself now in memory, puzzled at Hans' game, then realized what the old salt was up to. "What was I, nine?" he mused softly to Sael, Knudsen … maybe even himself.

Eric could feel that Ariel had stopped crying now, not that any of the men could have seen her cry. They may have heard her, but she was shielded from their cold eyes, he had made sure of that, so closely he held her.

Ariel herself could feel then a slight change in Eric's mood; his muscles relaxing slightly around her as she could feel the heat of his body lessen. He had seemed so … fierce … when he had first appeared on the quay, like she had never before seen him … and it had _frightened_ her; but _this_, as he now was, _this_ was more like the Eric she knew.

"Do you remember how father beat me about the ears that day?" The Prince mused, smiling wistfully. "He was so cross with me. He had such high expectations …"

Knudsen looked up now at Eric's voice, staring back at the prince, an odd look in his eyes; and then, a slight smile crossed his face, followed by a nod.

"I was lucky though." Eric paused again."Someone hid me away under the water casks and fed me apple slices as father stormed the decks." Eric paused again, smiling at Knudsen.

_"Apple slices? Eric's father … beat him?"_ Ariel thought, recognizing the word apple and the fruit it represented. _"I like apples,"_ she mused to herself, thinking of their moist sweetness, their fine cool juice like nothing else she had ever tasted; something she desperately wished could be now within her reach. Then she thought of Eric, what he must have been like as a young boy, a human boy; oh how she wished that she could have had someone like him to play with when she was young, when no one else had wanted her. It horrified her, the thought of Eric being, being … beaten, as she wondered if he too was as thirsty as she.

The old man looked for me high and low, didn't he? Practically tore _Najaden_ apart down to her keel." Eric laughed softly. "What a temper he had." The Prince looked at Knudsen, a look of fondness now replacing his previous anger.

"Aye." Henrik replied quietly, smiling. "Tha' he did."

Eric smiled too then, "And you were what then, sixteen?"

"Abou' fourteen."Knudsen smiled back. "Still jus' a cabin boy."

Eric paused, surprised, and then laughed quietly."Fourteen? Henrik, you were almost a giant even then." The Prince paused. "Are you sure, really? … fourteen?" Eric simply shook his head in disbelief.

Knudsen nodded quietly, smiling and shifting uneasily.

"Apples slices," thought Ariel. "He gave Eric apples slices." she thought, as she found herself strangely _grateful_ … in a way … to this man who was now busying himself at destroying her life. Somewhere in her heart she resolved that she would never let anyone hurt Eric again … _ever_. That she presently had no means of preventing even harm to herself was quite beside the point.

It was quiet then for a while, as Eric and Knudsen stared at each other, remembering bygone days, happier times. Eric too was feeling the onslaught of the Caribbean sun that this day was bringing. Not a cloud in the sky to provide respite, just the malevolence of that naked inferno striding high above them, its fire felt by every living being before him, and the precious girl in his arms. Water would have been helpful, he thought. He took a breath, then raised his right hand to cover the back of Ariel's neck against the sun's heat, knowing already what would happen to her clear, fair skin if she remained exposed for much longer. She was very still against him now, so still that he could almost hear her thinking; he wondered what those thoughts must be. Eric considered his next words.

Ariel felt the warmth lessen slightly against the back of her neck, followed by the gentle touch of Eric's hand, the slight caress of his strong fingers. Sighing softly, she pressed her forehead and cheek softly against his shoulder to let him know that she was grateful, that she felt his care for her in his touch. Thus she remained nestled closely against him, quiet in his arms, wishing that all of this nightmare would just go away … and knowing that it wouldn't.

"Do you know what I learned from you that day?" Eric continued, breaking the silence and catching the sailor off guard.

Knudsen looked up at him with questioning eyes, then shook his head.

"I learned then that I could trust my men to take care of me, as long as I looked after _them_ and didn't act too stupidly, proudly … or rashly." Eric paused, gently looking down as he rocked and held the silent Ariel in his arms.

The girl's eyes rose to meet his, silently questioning him … though still trusting as he had asked. These were all things she had not yet heard and Ariel couldn't now help her curiosity, suddenly wanting to know more about Eric's life, about who he was.

Eric smiled at her, then looked up silently around the quay, and found much to his surprise that most of the faces that looked back were those of men with whom he had sailed before, some of them many, many times. Many if not most were the very same men he had chosen to take _Lyn_ to sea with him tomorrow. _"Oh, what a mess this is becoming …"_ he thought.

"Eric," it was Knudsen's voice.

Eric looked back, surprised to hear his adopted first name used by a seldom heard voice.

Ariel looked up as well, then back at Knudsen. Raising her cobalt blue eyes to meet Eric's she pressed gently against his embrace, signaling a desire to turn. Eric looked down, meeting her eyes with his own to be sure she was ready for this. Silently, she implored him to let her face her accuser. As long as Eric held her she was safe; or so she told herself.

Nodding slightly, Eric kissed her forehead and relaxed his arms, letting Ariel turn toward not only Knudsen but the amassed crowd around him. Hundreds of eyes greeted her; it was worse than she expected. Now the sun's searing warmth was on her exposed face, almost blinding her. She looked down to the stone beneath her feet, letting her hair shield her eyes.

"You're right." The man paused. "You can trust me … trust us." The man continued, now looking about the quay at his mates.

Ariel raised her eyes to look at Henrik Knudsen as the man continued. Knudsen met her eyes with his immediately. She saw something like both fear and defiance in those blue eyes, and something like a challenge to her. _"But why? Why does he think I'm such a monster?"_ She asked herself innocently as the man went on, wondering what he could be thinking.

"We're just lookin' out for ya' Eric. I am. I mean." Knudsen continued, "At least I mean I'm a worried about ya'." He focused his gaze upon the girl now, unbridled hatred seething through his pale blue eyes, eyes that spoke murder to her.

Terrified, Ariel uttered a soft cry and spun away from Knudsen to Eric who caught her quickly.

With his embrace the prince reminded his fiancée that he was still there, and that she was still safe. He raised his hand again to shield her neck from the blistering sun. Ariel leaned heavily against him, trembling now again and wishing desperately for water, but was too afraid to ask.

_"I have to get her out of this,"_ Eric thought, feeling the strange heat of her body and dryness of her skin. She was breathing too hard, and any more of this would be too much for her. But for this to work, to prove her innocence, every man needed to see and hear what was said, not just his words, but _hers_. The argument for _her_ had to be won here and now. There would be no second chances.

Hans watched this brief exchange in near disbelief as Henrik's eyes fixated on Ariel, his cold hard stare driving deeply into the girl like a knife. Sael tightened his fist and arms, only to be reminded by the strong grips of the soldiers who still held him fast that he was going nowhere. But when Ariel cried out and fell back from Knudsen's murderous gaze, Sael clenched his fists and launched himself at the man. **"You snake,"** he growled **"Damn yer eyes, I'll ring yer _damned_ throat!"** he growled at Henrik like a beast, almost breaking free until the guards finally reeled him back in.

Knudsen watched Sael calmly, then turned his eyes back to Eric, confident in his righteousness.

"An' I still am." Knudsen was pleased. He had taken the witch's challenge with a silent prayer in the back of his mind and she had practically collapsed. _That_ pleased him greatly. At least the witch was afraid of the power of the _Almighty … _and she was afraid of _him_. His was the upper hand now, for he knew for certain now that she _was_ a witch … and that she could be _slain_. He would tear Eric free of her wickedness, even if the rest of the Prince's men were too afraid to try themselves. _"Fire,"_ he thought, _"… the old remedy."_ That would do. As the Eric and witch were distracted, Henrik's left hand slipped slowly from his side to the small of his back, feeling for his knife.

"Me as well." Eric turned his head to find Johan Engberg staring back at him. The man lowered his eyes.

"And _me_." another voice added.

A murmur of assent rumbled through the crowd of men, expressing what could only be heartfelt concern, for … _him_. Eric looked at his men silently, his mind consumed in thought as the men about him voiced their concerns.

"Umm, yer Highness," Hans spoke, having calmed himself somewhat, "ya' see, we've all been a sailin' wi' ya' since things went bad back home, since afore then to be honest, when you was jus' a lad … most o' us ha' I mean." He paused, drilling a hole into Knudsen with his eyes, a gesture the man returned in full. "An', well, we love ya … an' not jus' on account that someday, God willing, you'll be our King."

To Ariel's amazement, dozens of voices followed from about her, all expressing similar feelings. These men … they were Eric's _friends_! They were trying to _protect_ him! But … they were trying to protect him from … from … her! But she would _never_ hurt Eric … _never_!

For the first time in all of this her disbelief turned to anger. Again and again she wondered what she could possibly _do _to stop this. By now though, she was dying of thirst. Thirst, a horror no child of the sea should ever know, and now she was in its throes, and it was choking her.

As she thought, every avenue, every word or deed she considered led to disaster. Once again, she fought desperately to hold back tears from eyes that felt increasingly dry. Her eyes burned. It has hopeless, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for Ariel to maintain her fragile calm. So at last she broke.

"**I love him!**" Ariel suddenly screamed almost at the top of her lungs, then desperately looked up to Eric, who returned her gaze with one of shock, then understanding … and love.

Once again, the quay went silent. A subtle breeze was now stirring again, bringing with it too little relief.

Ariel turned in Eric's arms to once again face the gathering of men around her, first to the kind old man who had caught her in her fall, and then … to Knudsen. "I love him." she pleaded softly to the sailor, almost in a whisper, begging him with her eyes to understand … _"I would never hurt Eric … ever!"_ she added softly. _"Please …"_ she added pathetically. "Please, w_hy won't you believe me?"_

For a moment Henrik was as shocked as his prince, as shocked as all the other men on the quay. Gulls cried in the distance as he fingered the whalebone handle of the blade at his back. This girl had a way about her, the way she looked at him now, and for a moment he wanted to believe that she was just what she had said, just a girl, just as innocent as she seemed. But he knew better, just knew by the way she had retreated from his prayer. No, he wasn't going to let her enchantments stay his hand, his knife.

For a moment, just a moment, Ariel saw the enormous man's hard glare soften until he seemed almost like an overgrown boy. Then the steel in his eyes returned with a vengeance, a hateful, murderous vengeance that she had never known until today, save for Ursula perhaps. She knew then exactly what he wanted. Ariel fell instantly back into Eric, inhaling sharply in alarm. The prince caught her again in his arms. Loosening his left arm, Eric reached out to Carlson for his sword. In an instant the blade was in the Prince's hand.

Derek, his eyes now trained on Knudsen, reached for his own sword, following Eric's lead. Corporal Holm and the soldiers of the Guard put their hands to their blades.

Ariel could feel the sudden tension erupt about her, the Captain stepped closer now to her side, his hand at the pommel of his sword; Eric now stood with his own sword in hand. It scared her, that bloodshed seemed so close, knowing what those swords could do; all because of her these men were at each other's' throats, even Eric. Had she not been already so terrified at everything happening about her, everything happening to her, she might have done more than bury her head again in Eric's chest and close her eyes.

"This is gettin' dangerous." Sael thought. Then the old man decided to try once again, to try to unwind things. It was hard enough given that Hans would have gladly beaten Henrik Knudsen into a pulp if the chance availed, but Holm and his men had removed that option … for now.

Now, Eric, see here tha' I ain't got no doubts about either you or the Princess there in yer arms." Hans interrupted, looking about to the men now gathered more closely about their prince. "After all, I got ta' meet 'er jus' now."The old man paused. "An' there cain't be no doubt in _my_ heart that' she's as pure as th' sky above."

Looking toward Hans, sword now lowered to his left side, Eric considered Sael's words. The sailor was obviously on Ariel's side in this, but couldn't figure out what the man was aiming at. Was Hans really the man that had thrown his sweet Ariel to the stone, as it had seemed when he arrived? Hans was a powerful ally, because he knew the men trusted him, and the man had a wide range of friends. Eric relaxed slightly; wanting to hold Ariel more securely, he handed his sabre back to Derek. The Captain and men of the Guard stood a little more at ease as the Prince returned his left arm to his fiancée.

"An' I think all tha' som o' the boys need is the comfort o' knowin' tha' yer alright," Sael paused, "an that' yer yerself again an' all."Hans followed, looking to Knudsen. "Ain't tha' right, Henrick lad?"

Knudsen nodded quietly, then continued**, **"Eric. All the folk in town, all the men on the ships is talkin' 'bout that night weeks ago in the wedding barge. An' they's sayin' that' they was witchery afoot." Knudsen continued, trying to speak more clearly. Then he lowered his head, "and that some monster had you under its spell. Some said it was the spell of some witch … or a mer-maid." He looked at Ariel.

"I … I'm not … I'm not a _witch._" Ariel whispered pleadingly from Eric arms, still facing away from her accuser, but the man remained unconvinced. Eric could feel the girl tremble in his arms again as a quiet sob passed through her.

_"_So,_ that _was it then_,"_ he thought, "w_itchery_. " _That _was the rumor that troubled his men. All the speculations, the dark rumors, they had finally come home. Ariel's secret, their secret, was out, part of it at least, along with all its attendant lies. Eric sighed, having known it was only a matter of time, for Sergeant Lundgren had reported the rumblings in Christiansted and its docks; if only they had had but a day more.

He and Grimsby had planned to reveal the truth about that night discretely on Ariel's birthday far from land to only those they trusted, to only those who needed to know, and then gradually to others and only as required, but that plan was no longer an option. This was the moment that the tide must be turned; these rumors must be put to rest or else Ariel's life, their life together, would become a living Hell.

Behind them Lord Grimsby, Carlotta and the three scullery maids watched in horror. Not fully understanding the situation, it was Carlotta who acted first.

Every moment that had passed, Carlotta Grimaldi's eyes had been upon Ariel and her boy Eric. But it was Ariel who concerned her most. The girl had gone pale and increasingly listless, and seeing her cry so had raised Carlotta's blood to a boil. At the very least the girl needed cool water and shade, or that hot sun would be the death of her.

She had held her tongue so far, but now the Housekeeper had had enough. Had she a rolling pin, that Knudsen fellow would have been running for his life, with more than a few good knots on his worthless head, she thought. So, out onto the quay she stormed.

"You all ought to be _ashamed_ of yourselves!" The Housekeeper yelled as she strode fearlessly out onto the quay.

After realizing what Carlotta was doing Grimsby reached out to pull her back but she quickly shook off his hand while throwing a harsh look back at him. "Madame … _Carlotta_ … please." he begged the woman who promptly ignored him. After a moment, he looked down at the foil, now sitting useless in his right hand_. "Where is that gallant Beauclerk who strode down here now?_" he wondered to himself, feeling the frailty and doubts of his age descending upon him.

That he so far had done nothing was quite humiliating to him, but frankly the old fellow could see nothing that could be done. _Could he intervene and convince these men? No, he thought, not yet._ For now this matter was in Eric's hands … and Ariel's perhaps. If a suitable opportunity presented itself though, he would intervene.

Everyone on the quay, sailors and soldiers alike stood stunned and mystified by Carlotta's quick and unexpected entrance, looking to one another as if wondering who she was, which indeed … most were.

"Can't you fools see the poor girl is wilting under that sun?!" she raised her finger and pointed at the mass of men then looking upward before she returned her ire to the gathered men. Most of the men recoiled at least subtly against her harsh admonishment. "A shame on you all for what you've put her through. Some _men_ you are, picking on a helpless _girl_." Beside her, Carlotta felt a rush of air and something brush up against her right leg. Looking down to her right side she found Max.

If any of the men had thought to strike the woman, the rather large English sheephound who stood now stood at her side likely would have dissuaded them. As Carlotta looked down, she could almost swear that she saw one of Max's blue eyes looking back up at her from beneath his long hairy bangs. While he hadn't made a noise during his approach, the dog now made his presence there literally unavoidable. Turning his head to Henrik Knudsen, Max did something he seldom ever did. He bared his teeth … and _growled_.

Knudsen took a careful step back.

In his arms, Eric could feel Ariel, now hot and dry, leaning almost helplessly against him with her breaths coming and going unevenly. Weakly, she raised her head at the sound of the woman's scolding voice. Eric could feel her exhaustion, that she had already been out there far too long. This had to end, he had to change his tactics, so in desperation he set his mind upon a perilous tack, having tried everything else.

"Carlotta," he said, stopping the woman before she could say anything else. "I know you mean well, but these men have to know the truth. They have to leave here convinced by an honest argument that Ariel is exactly what she told them … an innocent girl, _not a witch_. You, we, none of us here can simply can beat that into them, or else the rumors and falsehoods will just get worse." He looked at the Housekeeper who had raised him into the man he now was, imploring her to trust his judgment, then looked down at Ariel with concern.

Carlotta looked back at him now, wondering if she should be hurt that her boy was rebuffing her attempt to help or proud that he seemed to have the moment in hand. As always, she chose the latter, giving_ her_ Eric the benefit of the doubt, and hoping he was _right_.

As she lay against Eric, Ariel vaguely followed the exchange between the man she loved and the woman who had practically adopted her since she first set foot on dry land. She wondered if she would ever see Carlotta again, if this nightmare would ever end.

"Carlotta," Eric added lovingly, "She needs water and a parasol, can you get those for me?" Eric asked. There's nothing more you can do to help her now than bringing me those two things, but she needs the water badly.

Carlotta nodded, looking at Ariel then to Gertrude and the other two maids. The three bolted into the archway as Carlotta came over to Eric and Ariel's side. Reaching out she took the girl's hand into her own, feeling its listlessness and seeing Ariel's weary eyes open to look at hers. Now the Housekeeper became deathly scared. "Eric, we _have_ to get her inside!"

"The water Carlotta … the water!" he said, then continued softly so that only the Housekeeper and those immediately beside him could hear, "I'm sorry, but this can't wait, she has to face them now." Eric looked to Captain Carlson, gesturing with his head to watch the men behind him as he turned Ariel away from the sun and wrapped his arms gently around her again to shield her from it. As he did so, he shot a withering gaze towards Henrik Knudsen. Then he played his final hand.

"You know, Henrik, You're right … about that night**." **Eric said sternly, looking back to Knudsen, but with a mind and voice to the crowd of men around him.

Exhausted and nearly at the end of her endurance, Ariel couldn't believe what she had heard. Eric had told her that he had loved her, and now he was siding with … with … _them_ … with that_ human_?! The world began to spin as she struggled again to maintain her composure, but this time struggling to not let _Eric_ hurt her. _"How could he?!"_ she cried to herself.

_"No!"_ she screamed in her reeling mind trying now to force herself away from the man who had betrayed her. But it was no use, for she discovered, as she already knew, that her prince was immensely stronger than she … and he wasn't letting go. _"Why isn't he letting go? _

Below in his arms Eric heard Ariel cry out, a half wail mixed with a desperation he had never before heard from her. He looked down only to find Ariel's face turned upward toward his own, her already red eyes welling now with the few precious tears she had left to shed and looking at him in abject horror.

_"No," _he thought _"that wasn't how I meant it Ariel!"_ realizing that she had not only heard what he had said but must have completely misunderstood his meaning. He looked back into her eyes, never letting his embrace about her loosen as he felt her try to break away from his arms, but he dared not let her go, even if she didn't understand what he was attempting. Instead, he lowered his lips to her ears as she began to cry again, whispering only two words to her, "_Trust me_."

Vaguely, Ariel heard Eric's entreaty, and for a moment she struggled to simply comprehend what he had said to her, so desperate was her state of shock and pain … her sense of loss … her sense of betrayal. Deep within her heart, her love for Eric struggled against her innermost fears … fears of confinement, abandonment, meaninglessness … death,

… seafoam.

They were the fears of a girl who had grown up without a mother, almost without a father, and without the love of anyone save at times for her eldest sister and siblings. They were the fears of a girl whose only hope for happiness had been that of a brighter world … and her true love.

And now, Eric, the very essence of that hope, the very love of her life for whom she had given _everything_ … was abandoning her, betraying her. _Wasn't he?_

In her chest Ariel felt a terrible ache building, a pounding agony that made her almost scream. Had her hands been free, they would have immediately gone to her breast, so great was the pain. It was the feeling of her heart breaking, a feeling she had known once before, before on the morning of that fateful third day.

Ariel found that she could no longer breathe; the world spun wildly about as the dark abyss came crashing in upon her.


	4. Chapter 4 - Trust

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 4 – Trust**

**~Being a Momentary Respite from Difficulty~**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 11:45 a.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Eric felt Ariel press against him once again, now no longer seeking his comfort and protection but instead trying desperately to escape his grasp. In that futile effort she expended the very last of her meager strength against his unyielding arms. Her breathing grew ragged again as deepening gasps for air changed into a sudden half-sobbing, half-choked wail of pain; the girl clenched her eyes tightly, her face contorting into a mask of pure agony. Watching this unfold as he tried to comfort and calm the girl, Eric's eyes widened in terror; then he too panicked.

_"Ariel!?" _he cried, shocked and not understanding what was happening to his young love. His little mermaid's struggling ceased abruptly as he felt her slump against him; her slender body falling limp in his arms. _"Oh God … no!"_ he cried softly, in a voice barely more than a whisper.

"Grim, get Doctor Østerby, quickly!"

Sailors and longshoremen climbed upon crates, barrels, and every other object to see what had happened, why silence had so swiftly descended again upon the quay. All those who could see stood riveted at the scene now unfolding before them, not the least of them Knudsen and Sael.

Hearing Eric call for Østerby, Captain Carlson managed to fight off the urge to immediately turn to the Princess' aid. It was painful for him, hearing her anguish transform into frantic choking followed by a soft agonized scream; especially since he knew that he _could_ help. Instead, he clenched his jaw, focusing on Knudsen and the many other gathered men, one after another. He noted to himself that the eyes of every man, which had been already fixed upon the prince and his fiancée, now focused unwaveringly upon what was transpiring before them, but in their faces Carlson saw that their reactions were divided. _"Østerby,"_ he thought.

A few men apparently shared the sailor Knudsen's fears, probably hoping that the Princess would perish; the Captain noted these, watching every one with care thereafter. Most though seemed to be indifferent and like Carlson perhaps saw only a striking young lady before them, albeit one who had barely blossomed into the flower of womanhood, still almost a girl. Carlson recognized many of _these_ men as _Eric's_ men, sailors off _Lyn_ mostly, easy to spot for the most by how they gathered directly before the Prince, and closest to the dock steps and _Lyn_. Among that group, most looked on with alarm, even _compassion_ for the girl their eyes.

Of everyone on the quay that morning, only Carlson had watched the crowd so closely enough to note these divisions.

Eric's eyes clouded with tears as he held the seemingly lifeless young woman in his arms, the maiden he dreamt of making his wife. And for the lack of any other option, he prayed. It was a simple prayer, as were all of his prayers, asking little for himself and much for those he loved, _"Please Lord, don't let her die, don't take her away from me … not after everything we've gone through just to be with each other. Please … please just let her have fainted."_

… Upon a dark and starless sea she drifted, her mind and soul caught in currents of black dreams. Down they pulled her, down … ever downward into the fathomless deeps, down into the black abyss ...

Eric closed his eyes, he _couldn't _cry, not now, especially not in front of his men. _"No … no!" _he said to the girl in his arms, "You'll be alright love." he whispered softy to her, to himself, hoping more than knowing, but he refused to let her fall; _he_ would _never_ let her fall. For just a moment, he held the seemingly lifeless body of his beautiful fiancée in his arms, and prayed.

_… "Trust me."__ a voice echoed … her voice. _

Several more soldiers of the Guard issued from the eastern archway, an opportunity the hitherto paralyzed Lord Grimsby seized upon. "Sergeant Lundgren," he said, quickly identifying the first man out as their leader. "We urgently need the Prince's physician. Quickly please, to Princess Ariel's chambers."

Lundgren stopped, looking to Grimsby and nodded with a slight bow of his head. "Yes milord," he replied, then turned sharply to the three men behind him. "Beck, Isakson, Voss … you heard Lord Grimsby, split up, go find Doctor Østerby and send him with all haste to the Princess' apartment in the Guest Wing!"

As all of this happened around him, the sole object of Eric's attention was his little Ariel; every other concern of the world simply fell away. His plan was now the last thing on his mind, having not expected _this_ at all; but he should have, knowing his wanting facility with public words. As fast as he might without injuring her, Eric lifted the stricken girl into his arms until her face was close to his, and stood there like that as the crowd watched silently; murmurs once again began to spread.

_…. "He asked me to trust him_."

Others gathered around him. Even Carlson seemed to finally relent, letting a troubled sidelong glance linger overlong on the stricken girl. For the first time a look of alarm, no … fear, etched itself upon his face, all when his eyes should have been firmly set upon the assembly of men gathered about him. He would regret that mistake.

Grimsby came to Carlotta's side as Maximillian whined by Eric's feet. The woman held Ariel's tiny hand in her own, looking at her for any sign of life. Grimsby put his right hand on Carlotta's arm, and leaned over, kissing Ariel gently on her forehead, then withdrawing with pained eyes, eyes that turned to Eric.

_… "Why had he asked her … to trust him?" _

Opposite Knudsen and the Prince, Hans wrung his hat as he watched until it twisted onto itself, horrified to see the girl simply collapse like that, and at seemingly so little. In his heart, fear and anger fought to decide his next action, but he just stood there breathlessly, hoping against hope that this would pass and that the girl would be unharmed. Though never particularly a man of strong faith, Hans Rubert Sael too said a short and silent prayer for her.

Knudsen, for his part, watched this development with intense interest, and knew he wasn't alone in his feelings, his suspicions, that many others shared his concerns for Eric, for _their_ Prince. _"How was it tha' a witch mi' falter so?"_ he wondered to himself, a hint of doubt now creeping into his previously unassailable certainty. But then, perhaps it was the hand of the divine, laying _His_ vengeance out upon her, not just Knudsen's. That satisfied Henrik, and he watched on, hoping the red-headed witch died.

"Ariel, _please_, Ariel, listen to me, can you hear me love?" Eric begged, peering into his fiancée's face with growing fear for her life, a fear far more immediate than the already dire circumstances into which she had stumbled. He closed his eyes again, fighting his emotions, and lost. A sob broke through his resolve as tears welled in his eyes. "Please my little mermaid, please …" he whispered to her softly, heedless of those around him, _"… trust me."_

_"Don't leave me alone." _he added, tears running freely now down his face._ "I … I can't live without you." _He said, as his own chest heaved now, remembering his mother, and looking now upon the frail young woman who had been his one and only hope, his only dream in life. And he wept.

_"**Trust me**," _she heard, in a different voice now. The voice gave her hope, reminding her of a desperate love, a desperate love for a young prince, her love, her faith in him … her dream of a life and family together. That one realization slowly worked its gentle way through her seeming emptiness, through the black void that had swallowed her alive.

In that moment as he stood there, caught now in despair over the woman he loved more than anything else, Eric felt Ariel breathe. Shallow at first, her breaths gradually deepened until at last after what seemed a short eternity, she slowly opened her eyes.

As she opened her eyes, Ariel was quite surprised to find Eric's own eyes, blue as the sky itself, looking back intently into hers, full of sorrow, concern … and love.

_"Ariel!"_ he thought, hardly daring to breathe, but stood there silently, the girl suspended in his arms, her head against his right shoulder, her long fiery hair brushing at his wet face and chest, his shoulder and sleeve. In that instant, his tears of despair transformed into those of happiness … and relief.

Slender fingers tugged at the fabric of his shirt. _"Oh, how she could say so much to him with so small a gesture." _Eric thought. He had felt those delicate fingers many times before now after all, the very first time but five weeks ago, on a warm sandy shore not far from where the two now stood. Now though, he knew what their gentle pull meant.

Ariel's awareness slowly returned, and as it did she found herself lying in Eric's arms, struggling to understand where she was, and what was happening. Before her and holding her hand was Carlotta. Grimsby looked down upon her from Carlotta's side. Gradually, smiles and looks of relief replaced the profound worry in their faces. Carlotta smiled lovingly at Ariel, "Ohhh, sweetheart!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks as she moved from Grimsby's shoulder to look at Ariel.

Ariel felt a tender kiss on her left temple, causing her to look wearily back to Eric again.

Then she felt something kiss her cheek, something like a drop of rain. Another drop fell upon her parched lips, and she felt then its moisture, tasted then its saltiness, and thought it like the sea itself. Another struck her lips, rolling onward into her mouth, wetting her dry tongue ever so slightly. She fixated on that drop, rolling it on her impoverished tongue until its moisture was utterly spent. _"Tears,"_ she realized, _"they're tears."_

She looked up again, her vision having cleared, and saw Eric peering down upon her with eyes that had never left hers since she opened them, eyes that glistened with the very tears of all his fears and regrets. He was crying _for_ _her_, she realized. Looking away for a moment, Eric blinked, then looked back at her. Then she too would have cried … had her stricken body any moisture left to give.

"Are you … alright love?" Eric almost whispered as he held her eyes with his, trying to be sure she was well; but in the back of his mind, he gave thanks to Heaven that she had been returned to him.

"I…" she started, then stopped as a renewed faintness came upon her. Not moving her head, Ariel looked up Eric for a moment, then around her at the silent gathering of men that watched her, watched them. As if remembering then, she looked back to her prince and whispered, _"What … happened?"_

Upon hearing the maiden's voice, Derek Carlson breathed a sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and then opened them again, drilling Henrik Knudsen with his gaze like a spear. Instantly the sailor noticed and the smug and hateful look upon his face dissolved into one of doubt and unease.

Ariel paused looking up into Eric's eyes, then continued "I didn't … I didn't _faint_ … did I?" she continued, embarrassment echoing in her voice, a voice as quiet as Eric's had been to her.

Gently, Eric kissed her again, all the while never loosening his embrace. Then, bringing his lips to her right ear, he whispered again so quietly that only she could hear, "Ariel my love, I know you're terrified, but you have to _trust me_. This is all going to be right. I promise. _Trust me_."

Slowly, the girl nodded. "_I do_." She said, again only a whisper, then laid her head gently on his right shoulder, letting him hold her, finding herself grateful once again that he was there.

But as her consciousness returned, so did her awareness of the sun. Now high overhead, the fiery orb looked down upon her accusingly. She felt its heat upon her face, upon her body, a body that desperately ached for moisture. _"This will never end,"_ she thought desperately. But even as the words passed through her mind, the light and heat of the sun seemed to fall away. The girl looked up, only to find something blocking her view of the sky, blocking the harsh rays of the sun. Ariel sighed in relief and again closed her eyes.

"Ariel dear, have a drink of this." Carlotta implored as she brought a glass of iced water to the girl's lips.

Opening her eyes, Ariel saw a small glass of clear liquid before her with a layer of white crystal ice floating upon it and felt its wetness against her upper lip. **_"Water!"_** she thought desperately, gasping aloud as her brilliant blue eyes widened. Putting her delicate hands to the glass almost without thinking, the girl took a deep draught of what seemed to her be the freshest, coolest water she had ever tasted.

She drank quickly … too quickly.

Carlotta reached over to the maiden, gently pressing the girl's hand down with her own to move the glass away from her lips. "Easy, dear, not too fast, or you'll just make yourself sick, sicker than you are I mean." Withdrawing her hand, she continued "There's plenty more sweetheart, just drink slowly, in sips."

Ariel looked up at Carlotta and smiled weakly, then took another small drink, closing her eyes as she did so. The water seemed so cool and so fresh as she felt it course down her dry throat. But the ice, _"How can humans have ice when it is so hot?" _she wondered, having only seen ice once before in her travels with her father, an adventure where she saw and suffered the cold of distant seas, seas where mountains of frozen water drifted out into the open ocean. At Eric's table though, the drinks and fruit were always chilled, which delighted her, but among all of the questions she had asked him in these weeks since she had first come to the land, this had not been one of them; she had always forgotten to ask. However it was that Carlotta had come by the iced water though, Ariel was grateful for it; for never had she before known such thirst … or such pain.

Watching as Carlotta administered water to Ariel, Eric looked to Carlson_. _"Captain, I want you to work with the household staff to ensure all of these men are watered, cooled, and have a good rest from the sun. I'm taking Ariel inside, but we will be back out as soon as she is well. When we return, I want every man here, do you understand? **_No one leaves_**."

"Yes, sire." Derek saluted sharply with his sword, leaving Eric to wonder when and why the man had drawn it. The Captain then began to survey both the quay and lower dock, seeking a way to meet Eric's command.

Carlotta felt the Ariel's forehead as the girl sipped from her glass. She was still burning up.

"How is she?" Eric asked, looking down to his right shoulder, finding there Ariel's red hair and her delicate but flush face. Once again, he brought his lips to the top of her head, closing his eyes as he kissed her. As softly as he had lowered his head, so he raised it, never ceasing to watch the girl in his arms.

"Not well Eric, the poor dear's afire." Carlotta replied. "You have to get her inside to someplace cool."

For a moment, Ariel stopped drinking and looked up at him, her eyes still somewhat weary. She felt guilty that she was drinking and Eric was not. "Eric?" she asked, pausing for a moment as though finding it uncomfortable to talk. The girl closed her eyes.

"Yes love?" he replied.

"Would you like some … some water?" she asked, her eyes still closed, as she weakly lifted the last of her glass to his lips.

"No love, you drink. We're taking you inside"

"But, no … I thought …" she began to protest.

"It can _wait_. We need to get you inside." he paused for a moment then continued, "Derek and I are working to a new plan now." He smiled down at her, "I promise, we'll come right back out and face them together as soon as you're ready." He lowered his head to hers then, continuing softly, "We mustn't be too long inside though, it has to be soon." the prince said, though not telling her why; for he hoped still to salvage the young woman's birthday.

Ariel looked back up at him and nodded, then rolled her head back into his shoulder and closed her eyes. As she did so, she heard Derek Carlson's voice, barking out orders, something about water for the men, and getting all hands out of the sun. _"Why would Captain Carlson want the men's hands out of the sun and not the men themselves?"_ she wondered silently. Ariel sighed as she felt Eric turn and begin walking, "At least then the poor men would have some relief too." she thought dreamily.

As she felt Eric's steps beneath her, Ariel wished she could give the sweet man who had caught her in her fall some of the iced water too; she hoped that he would be taken care of, just as she hoped for something more to drink soon.

After Eric, Grimsby, Carlotta and Maximillian disappeared into the deep shadows of the eastern archway, Sergeant Lundgren ordered sentries to both sides. Turning their eyes to the gathering of sailors and workmen, the soldiers fixed long bayonets to their muskets; bayonets with sharp edges that gleamed wickedly in the bright morning sun.

"Gertrude should already be upstairs getting her bed ready." Carlotta announced, looking down at Ariel, and reaching out to touch the girl's quiet face. "She'll need a cool bath … oh, the poor dear." Ariel still felt quite warm, too warm.

Entering the Audience Hall, Eric turned right toward the north stairs, coming to and taking the right flight as Carlotta trailed behind. Carlotta turned to Max and bent at her waist, lifting her finger to the dog at the landing of the stairs. "Max honey, I know you love her and mean well, we _all_ do, but Princess Ariel's bedchamber is no place for a puppy, even a sweet one like you."

Max stopped at the Housekeeper's feet and let out a pathetic whine, looking up at the woman with big blue hair-covered eyes. "_I am not a puppy,"_ the dog thought.

For a moment, Carlotta looked down and saw the animal staring up at her plaintively, and with a look of, what, was that irritation in his eyes? _ "No, it couldn't be," _she thought. Only Ariel's well-known pout could cast such a potent spell, the woman mused, looking lovingly at the slender girl in Eric's arms before her. Something deep in the woman's heart though just couldn't say 'no', not now after Max had stood so gallantly to her defense out on the quay. Unable to resist his literally puppy-dog eyes, she relented. "Ohhh …, _alright!_ But _just this once_."

Max barked happily, then charged past her and up the stairs after Eric and Ariel.

Eric looked down at Ariel's quiet face as he slowly and carefully climbed the stairs. Only days after the night of the false wedding and the storm that had followed it, she had literally fallen into his arms, right here on the fifth stair. He had fallen first of course, chasing a rambunctious Max up the lower flight, but what he didn't know was that she had already seen him from above, and panicking, had sped down the stairs to help him, crying out his name as she flew. When he had looked to her voice, all that he saw was his beautiful little mermaid flailing at the air as her dress caught under her shoe, and a look of utter terror on her face as she shrieked and fell.

The look she had today had been worse, far worse.

Of course he had caught her, _backwards that time_, as he had several times now these past five weeks. He confided in himself his secret pleasure in this, of being there for her when she was most in need, though it alarmed him, because Ariel was often in need. One should expect that might be the case with any of her kind that had come to dry land, but it was especially true for _his_ little mermaid, given her restless spirit and gorgeous curiosity. He had just decided that he would have to _always_ be there for her, but he worried how impossible that might prove to be.

_"No more ravines,"_ he thought. While Eric had been blessed with wealth, land, and rank; fine carriages were still expensive, _and _Ariel … well … _she was irreplaceable_.

But catching Ariel up in his arms afforded Eric a closeness to her that the staid mores in which he had been raised would otherwise have denied him. The opportunity to feel her body and breath against him, to wrap his arms around her and feel her beating heart within her breast, to feel her soul melding with his, as it would upon the day of their wedding; this is what he lived for. Moreover, his reward was usually a beautiful deep kiss with her wrapped in his arms, a perfect reward, and this was yet another treasure he would otherwise have known little of until their wedding day. There was no way that Ariel could possibly know how she made him feel, not only about _her_, but about _himself_. Eric wanted, no, he needed, to be _everything_ for her.

Lord Grimsby followed somewhat farther behind the prince, the stairs proving as usual quite challenging to his aching knees. Emerging from the stair, he turned left, coming to Ariel's door. It was open and inside the room, Gertrude had already folded back the covers to the girl's bed.

"Eric, lay her down on the bed, gently now." The housekeeper said as she entered the room, then paused, thinking. "I'm going to the bathhouse. Aubrey, have Gertrude bring the girl's lavender chemise from the wash. Eric, I'm going to need you to carry Ariel out to the bath when it's ready."

Eric and Grimsby looked at each other, exchanging grim but knowing smiles. For once, they were both were relieved that Carlotta was _again_ in charge; that things at least _seemed_ to be under control. Both knew though that this was just a momentary respite.

As gently as Carlotta had commanded, Eric laid his young fiancée on the soft silken sheets of her bed. Ariel opened her eyes, looking to him as she felt the change of movement about her, having looked around only for brief moments as they had ascended the stairs.

Eric sat down on the bed beside her, reaching to the nightstand where there sat a silver tray and crystal carafe of clear iced water. A small decanter of pale yellow liquid and cup of fine sugar sat beside it. Taking a glass, he lifted the carafe and poured out its contents until it the glass was almost two thirds full of water, then brought it close to Ariel's lips. "Here love," he said softly, "_drink_."

With a look of grateful desperation, Ariel took the glass quietly into her hands, and began to drink … to _sip_ that is, closing her eyes as she felt the cool refreshing liquid and tiny bits of ice course into and through her slender frame. Oh, how its moisture felt, wetting her dry mouth, her burning throat, and her aching tummy. Then, after pausing for a moment to simply breathe, she raised her head to Eric and smiled weakly. "Thank you." She said quietly. She looked at him, a strange mixture of guilt and sorrow in her eyes, then added "Why aren't _you _drinking?"

Aubrey watched as Eric laid his waif of a fiancée on the bed, the boy's mind and eyes focused entirely upon her. "Oh," Grimsby thought, "if only we can overcome this. Such a happiness it will be for _his _Eric and now this beautiful little Ariel."

"A mermaid!" he exclaimed to himself, still in near disbelief. Superstitious fairytale nonsense he had thought, even so recently. Grimsby chuckled to himself, and this from the mind of the self-proclaimed King of the Nibelung, the King of Faerië itself, he mused, reminiscing on his days at Oxford. And then, only five short weeks ago he had first seen _her_. Grimsby smiled as his mind recalled her entrance to the Dining Hall, where she had first cast her spell upon him.

Such a dazzling beauty, in pink no less, an angel who radiated demure charm and elegance, he paused as he considered one notable exception, unconsciously wiping at his face. Many a late night on the barbican he had considered it, how _she_ had simply fallen into their lives, Eric's life, and given thanks as he pulled upon his pipe.

Too perfect for the whims of Fate, thought Beauclerk. No … it was _Providence_. Grimsby was thankful now for the hope of true love for his boy and Ariel, for children … for an heir; for the hope that he could fulfill his oath to dear Sophia before the Lord finally called him home.

His eyes never left the two, but, he thought, _they never really have much time together alone now do they_, as it _should be_ owing to the demands of honor and propriety, of course. But perhaps, some time alone together was exactly what they both most needed at the moment. Quietly, Beauclerk smiled, stepped back through the doorway into the hallway, and closed the door behind him.

Eric heard a quiet click. Turning to the hallway door the young man found Ariel's bedchamber door closed, and Grimsby nowhere to be seen. Only Max remained, raising his head curiously from the carpet beside Ariel's bed as his Master's attention shifted away from Ariel, then back. "Good boy." Eric whispered, smiling to his faithful friend. As he returned his attention to Ariel, he furrowed his brows, concerned about what it must be that was troubling her. She wasn't crying, and her color was returning. What could it be? "Ariel?" he asked.

"I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" she asked sadly, looking into his eyes, then lowering hers.

Eric paused for a moment, then leaned toward her and wrapped his left arm around the girl. "No, you haven't."

Ariel turned her head to him, a surprised look on her face. "I _haven't_?"

"No." Eric replied. "This _had_ to happen, _had_ to be dealt with. It … just happened a little sooner than I had _planned_ for."

"Oh." She sat silently, thinking about what he had said. "Wait," the girl continued, "Planned for? You _knew_ this was going to happen?"

Eric sighed. "Yes, it was _bound_ to happen. Ariel, I don't know what your people are like, but humans have a lot of wonderful traits … and a lot of bad ones. What's worse is that it's never easy to tell which people will have the bad ones."

"What are the bad ones?" she asked quietly, thinking now of her father's words of warning to her months ago.

"Well, what you saw out there for one thing" Eric pointed to the hallway and downward to the quay with his right hand. "Being superstitious is one of the bad ones."

"S..super … st…st… "

"Superstitious," he smiled softly, finishing her word for her when she seemed to get caught.

"Sup..super…sti…tious." she said, smiling wearily for a moment, recognizing that she had gotten the sounds right. "What is 'super..sti…tious'?" she asked looking at Eric innocently.

"Well, it's believing in things that sound frightening but aren't real, things like bad luck, ghosts, witches, elves, demons … those sorts of things."

"And … _mermaids_?" she added softly, looking at him and smiling somewhat mischievously before she took another sip of water.

Eric looked back at her, considering her addition for a moment. A broad smile crossed his face until his cheeks dimpled, and he laughed, then nodded "… and _mermaids_."

At this, Ariel broke out into a bright smile. Seeing Eric smile so always made her feel so happy, and now she was so pleased with herself at having made him laugh. She so preferred "sweet Eric" over "serious Eric." But then, as she thought about it, she was glad that both were there for her. "Serious Eric" was … _nice_ … when things grew frightening, like they had this morning.

"Witches are real too." Ariel said quietly as she rested her head against Eric's arm, letting her head roll slightly toward his.

"I know they are." he paused, "Believe me I know _that_ now. But you're sure not one of them."

"Eric, why do they think that? W...what did I do wrong?" she asked, with just a hint of tears in her voice as she continued, "Why do they … hate me?"

"Oh Ariel, they don't _hate_ you. How could anyone ever hate _you_? You, you have such a gentle soul." he soothed. "And the answer is _nothing_, you didn't do _anything_ wrong. The truth is, we'll have to ask Knud…"

**"Oh that _Grimsby_!** Leaving you two alone together in her bedchamber for heaven's sake!" Carlotta cried, causing _both_ Eric and Ariel to start. The girl's water glass fell out of her hands and onto the bed. Fortunately, it had been almost empty … almost. "Eric! You should know better!"

"Lottie, we were just _talking_, and I wasn't _about_ to leave her here alone after everything that happened _down there_." The boy stood his ground, nodding to the doorway immediately behind the woman.

_"Lottie?"_ Ariel thought to herself ... and smiled, and then blushed at the thought of Eric staying with her in her bedchamber, just to protect her.

The Housekeeper stood at the now open hallway door; beyond her stood at least one soldier of the Guard at attention, keeping watch outside the Princess' bedchamber. She looked over at little Ariel, who returned her gaze like a startled doe before quickly picking up her fallen glass and holding it out to Eric for more water; her innocent eyes never leaving Carlotta's. Blushing again, the former mermaid smiled brightly at Carlotta, whose stern expression instantly dissolved, replaced by a beautiful smile mirroring that of her young ward. Carlotta was delighted, seeing how her little girl was recovering. _"Oh, the magic of love."_ she thought.

"Ohhh… you two," the woman smiled and laughed gaily, "I'm so glad to see you feeling better dear." But Doctor Østerby is here and I have your chemise; you're going to have to change. Eric, you and Max have to leave.

"Carlotta," the boy started, then ceased instantly at Carlotta's sudden withering stare. For a moment, Eric thought he ought to have Carlotta face down Knudsen. Then he realized … she already had.

"Alright, can I come back when she's dressed?"

"Bathed, refreshed, and dressed," Carlotta corrected. "And yes … you _may_." She said, correcting her boy's grammar.

"How long?" he asked.

"An hour, maybe a little longer." the housekeeper responded.

Eric sighed, and completed filling Ariel's glass as she watched the swirling chips of ice whirl and dance inside its cold dewy volume. Then, looking at Eric with a sidelong glance, she smiled softly. "I'm _not _drinking another _drop_ unless _you_ do." she said, lifting her nose just a bit and averting her eyes from Eric, this despite the fact she was feeling rather thirsty again and really wanted another drink.

Eric looked at the girl, raised his eyebrow, then smirked. Reaching for another glass, he filled it and took a long draught, closing his eyes and sighing as the cold liquid wetted his mouth and quenched his thirst, if only somewhat.

"Eric," Carlotta said, "There's more water right outside. You're the one who said we have to be quick about this, remember?"

"Alright Carlotta, I'm leaving … after just one last thing." At that he stood gently from the bed at its side and turned to the tray, lifting the carafe to a fresh cold glass. Pouring the last draught of iced water from it, he reached out for the decanter and added about half of the pale liquid to the glass as Ariel watched in rapt attention.

Eric looked up and smiled devilishly at her, knowing he had her transfixed. Then he poured several silver teaspoons full of white powder into the glass. Taking the same teaspoon he smiled until his dimples showed, then stirred the mixture furiously until the sides of the glass dripped with cold dew.

Then he knelt down beside Ariel's bed, where she lay now eyes wide, looking at him and the glass.

As she leaned toward him, wonder and a little bit of anxiety filled her eyes as she looked down at the spinning liquid. It was some sort of _potion_. Maybe it would help her feel better? She looked up at Eric. "What … what is it?" she asked breathlessly.

Eric smiled broadly again, that way that just made her heart melt. Then her prince leaned over to her and kissed gently her on her forehead, slowly closing his eyes as he did so. Gently, he exchanged her glass for the one containing the spinning potion. After that he stood, leaving the blushing maiden to look from up at him, then to the potion now in her hands, and then back again, as though seeking an answer.

"Eric?" Ariel asked.

He stepped away, smiling to Carlotta, then left the room. "Come on Max!" he whispered.

Max barked, then turning to his master's mate assailed her with a quick slurping dog kiss, after which he bolted happily from the room following his Master. Her hands being full, there was nothing that Ariel could do to resist the mutt's drooling onslaught.

Ariel was left lying there with the cold swirling yellow potion still in hand, looking up and out the doorway. She felt a little lonely as she watched Eric disappear. Almost desperately, Ariel called after him, "Eric … _please_ … _what is_ _it_?"

The girl peered anxiously out the door, hoping for a reply as Eric's receding footsteps fell silent. After about five seconds, one came.

"Lemonade! …" she heard distantly from somewhere towards the stairs. Then all was silent.

"Le ... lemon… ade?" she asked quietly, looking up to Carlotta in puzzlement.

"Yes dear," the woman smiled at her, "why don't you try a sip. It's good for your heart."

"Good for my heart?" the girl asked innocently, looking back at Carlotta who simply nodded and smiled.

Hesitantly, Ariel complied, at first taking just a small sip; she had recently become quite fearful of _potions_.

Instantly, pleasure and wonderment spread across her face as her eyes at first widened, lit up, and then closed. As they did, the maiden savored the sweet cornucopia of intense flavors that tickled her tongue and mouth, and felt the wash of the drink's refreshing cold cascade running down her throat.

Then, looking out the door after Eric, she smiled wistfully and sighed, "… _Lemonade_."


	5. Chapter 5 - Worries For a Former Mermaid

**_Publication Date:_**_ Unknown (Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 5 – Worries for a Former Mermaid**

**_~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:00 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Once again a stunned silence enveloped the quay. All eyes remained on the Prince and the young woman he now carried in his arms until they disappeared into the heavy shadows of the Eastern Arch. Hans Sael in particular looked after them hopefully, still twisting his old hat between even older fingers, wondering if he would ever see the Princess again.

Captain Carlson's voice shattered the momentary calm. "All of you men," he yelled, "every man here, sailor and longshoreman alike, gather around me!" The captain gave a sharp glance to Corporal Holm who nodded in return.

The Corporal turned, "Soldiers of the Guard, establish a cordon about the pier. No comers, no goers." By now, the gathered squads of soldiers numbered now two dozen, clad in full uniforms and shakos such as they wore on guard. Each bore a musket with fixed bayonet. Smartly, they fanned out across the quay and lower dock until an armed man stood ready at every corner and along every side; along the eastern face of Christiansborg Palace, this number was doubled.

"Well done Corporal." The Captain said, a calm in his voice.

Holm acknowledged with a sharp salute. Left with no alternative, the sailors and workmen clustered around the Captain.

"Good," Carlson continued, watching about him as they gathered. "I see that I have your attention. While the Prince attends to his lady, he has ordered that no man here leave the quay and dock."

A low murmur spread through the gathered men.

"This is because as a sign of his respect, Prince Eric intends to return and finish this discussion with you, once the Princess has recovered." At this, Derek's eyes focused sharply on the sailor Knudsen, who this time returned his gaze without flinching, listening as were the others around him. "And hopefully put your doubts to rest."

"In the meantime," the Captain continued, "The Prince has also commanded that every man here be offered the opportunity to rest from the sun and to drink, each according to his thirst. The palace staff is bringing fresh water and bread as we speak."

Hans watched all of this transpire and welcomed the promise of not only water but of rest from the heat. A kindly gesture, that is, thought the old salt, but then again, that would be Eric. Sael could only imagine those of his boys whose labor had been the hardest, how they might greet this news. As the Captain finished, Hans stepped forward, making sure not to do so in a way that earned the reproach of that long sword Carlson still brandished. The officer turned to Hans, looking at him disdainfully.

"You, old man, you're the one Mistress Carlotta said threw the Princess to the ground." Carlson finished, drawing his gaze upon Hans. "If it's true, I'll throw you in irons."

For moment Hans considered that the Captain seemed only a few years older than Eric, but far more serious, especially given this new threat of punishment. That is, he seemed more serious than Eric until Hans had seen Eric _this morning_.

This Carlson, he had the reputation of being a martinet, but seeing him now in action, any doubts as to the young man's competence fled away. This man knew what he was doing, as only one who had seen battle might; he had that look in his eyes. _"No," _Hans thought, _"this fellow is one to be reckoned with, a deadly man." _Hans stood before the Captain as he searched for the right words with which to reply.

"Captain, tha's no' how it were," a voice said from the crowd, "'twas th' _Seadog_ tha' caught the girl as she fell."

"The Seadog?" Carlson questioned. "You in the crowd, show yourself."

The crowd parted as a tall, lanky man stepped forward.

"What's your name, and who is this 'Seadog?'"

"Olof Morgensen, Captain." The man was balding, and held his cap and hand over his head. "Why, the Seadog, sir, why that's old _Hans_, standing righ' they afore ya'. Don' tel me ya' been aroun' fo' three years an' not met the good ol' Sael!"

At this a low laughter broke out throughout the crowd. Carlson turned his eyes back to Sael, then realized that he _had_ met this man before, at night on this very quay weeks ago, just before _Lyn_ had sailed for Philadelphia and Boston.

The man had asked about the happenings with the Prince and his young guest, and the Captain, being in a fair mood that evening, had confided too much in the man, as his conflicted feelings over the girl had overcome his customary discipline and resolve. As much as he tried, the Captain could not dismiss this Ariel from his thoughts, and it was troubling him, especially now that it was understood that she and Eric would marry.

Alighting at first on the old man's eyes, Derek found his attention drawn to the hot stone of the quay. There, pooled and smeared all around Hans' feet was fresh blood, darkening and drying in the hot sun. With his free hand, Carlson motioned for the old man to turn around.

Hans complied.

"Good heavens man!" the captain cried softly. "Corporal Holm," he ordered then, "find Master Sael some shade. Get him water and a man to clean that back. Use fresh water and spirits to cleanse it." Carlson felt a pang of regret now, guilt actually, that the poor old man had been so misused, not the least by him, and all the while his back lay cut open and bleeding.

Hans saw Carlson's icy stare turn swiftly to something that looked like … compassion, or was it sorrow, as the man approached him as though to speak to him in confidence.

"Sir," the Captain started, "I wish to offer you my apologies for my accusations, for I confess that I have misunderstood the situation as much I think has your man Henrik over there," he said, glancing towards Knudsen. "If what the Princess and this Morgensen have to say is true, which I now have no doubt, we all owe you our thanks."

A young orderly of the Guard approached, taking Hans lightly by the arm. "Come on old fellow, let's get you some water and shade, and have a look at that back. It's a good thing for you, but Doctor Østerby is on his way, we'll have him take a look at you." the boy said as he walked Hans into the archway.

"Østerby," Hans thought, "Østerby, you mean tha' same young fellow that's been tendin' all th' ships a' Christiansted harbor?" he asked.

"Aye sir, he the Prince's physician now as well. After he tends to the Princess we'll call him down to look after you. You're lucky, his services don't come cheaply."

_"No they don't,"_ Hans thought, _"but the price of taking his services is sometimes dear."_

Hans felt the cool water run down his back, washing the blood and grime out of the gash. Clean linen pressed at the wound, holding tightly against it as the orderly tended to Hans' wound_. _"What's your name lad?" Hans asked.

"_Christian_, just like the Prince, Master Sael."

Hans nodded. "Well, thank you Christian, lad."

"Here comes the sting sir." the boy said.

Hans nodded and closed his eyes as a shower of strong spirit flooded and flushed his wound. It Hans grimaced, doubled over in pain, but otherwise was silent. He had known pain far worse than this … but it still hurt.

"Sergeant Lundgren," Carlson said as he approached the line of soldiers guarding the eastern face of the palace.

"Yes sir?"

"I'm stepping inside to speak with Master Sael. Keep an eye on those men, and especially that Knudsen fellow and anyone that speaks with him."

"Yes sir, keep a good eye on 'em I shall, and that one especially." the sergeant said calmly, turning his gaze to the crowd, and then to Henrik Knudsen.

Carlson disappeared into the archway, until only his silhouette could be seen within its deep shadows.

"So, how is our Master Sael doing, Private?" the Captain asked.

"Well, sir. I've cleaned the wounds and am just finishing with the dressings."

"Good, may I have a look?" Carlson replied.

"Yes sir, of course sir."

"Don't stop, keep dressing them." The Captain looked carefully at the dressing and noted the faint red stains spreading across them. They looked as good as any such dressing he had ever seen. It was a messy business, cleaning and covering a wound like this one, but the young orderly seemed to have it well in hand. "Good job, Christian."

"Yes sir," the young man looked up at his Captain briefly and smiled, then put his eyes back to the job at hand. Smiling again, he continued "Thank you sir!"

"So Master Sael, I'm looking for a way to get the men under some cover without taking them off the quay. Have you any ideas?"

"What, yer askin' me?"

"Yes, I am." Carlson replied calmly.

Hans thought for a moment, looking out at Lyn docked on the far side of the quay and the little pier that sat beneath it."

"Well, them mast spars down there," Hans said, nodding with his head to the tall poles that lined either side of the dock. "Ya' could star' by getting' sailcloth out o' _Lyn_ and sending some hands aloft ta' drape it ou' in sheets fro' one side ta another."

"How long would that take?"

"An hour or so, if'n we ge' started now."

"Sounds like a good idea _Master Sael_. I'll put that plan into motion."

Something he had heard though was troubling Hans. For a moment, the old man thought about the young woman who had just a while ago lain in his arms, looking down into his eyes.

"Cap'n, afore ya' do that', do me a favor … seeing as ya' owe me one by my reckonin'. We can call it even then." Sael smiled wickedly, figuring he had the officer by his honor, probably the man's most vulnerable point.

"A favor?" the Captain asked, then after considering Hans' statement for a moment, continued "Yes, I suppose I do. Go on, what would you like for me to do for you?"

Hans nodded slowly, "Cap'n, tell me all ya' know abou' this … Østerby fellow."

* * *

As Eric left Ariel's bedchamber, Max following closely behind him, he noted that not one, but two young soldiers stood at attention on either side of its doorway. Both saluted him as he crossed the threshold between them and turned left to the stairs leading down to the Main Hall. A few steps away, the Prince turned to face the men, trying to suppress what appeared to be a mischievous grin. He then deliberately nodded to each soldier in answer to their prior military courtesy; these were men he had fought alongside, men he respected, and men whose respect he valued. The least he could do was return the honor they rendered him.

Almost at that very moment from the room behind them came a beautiful pleading voice, "Eric … _please_ … _what is_ _it_?"

By reflex the two guards looked slightly toward the room, then back each other, then returned their eyes forward and back to Prince Eric who greeted their puzzled looks with a broadening smile. Mirth danced in his eyes which had been altogether absent that morning.

"Lemonade!" he replied, then laughing softly, winked at the guards and turned to descend the stairs.

After perhaps a minute had passed Private Lund turned sharply and stepped inward to grasp the handle of the room's open west door. As hard as he could he fought the urge to look up at the women within, particularly the young maiden Prince Eric had welcomed into the palace just a little over a month ago, the same young maiden who supposedly was now the Prince's betrothed. But his effort was in vain.

For just a moment he faltered and looked up, and saw a fiery-haired girl look up and over to him, holding some manner of drink in her hands. She was beautiful, just as they had said, especially now given the rapturous smile she wore. Mistress Carlotta stood at her side, looking down at the girl, a happy smile also adorning her face.

Meeting his gaze, the young woman seemed almost disappointed for a moment, as though he was not the man she had hoped to see, but then she smiled sweetly at him and lowered her eyes. Jens blushed as he quickly pulled the door shut behind him.

_"My God ..." _the young man thought, turning his eyes forward. He stood ever more alert now, knowing for the first time _who_ he was guarding.

"Did ya' see 'er?" whispered Thomsen, the soldier on the east side of the doors. "What was she _like_?"

Jens grinned, then whispered tightly in reply. "_Like Aphrodite … risen from the sea."_

Rounding the upper landing and speeding down the stairs, Eric resolved to ask Carlotta what Ariel's expression had been like, to ask if his little mermaid had enjoyed the lemonade as much as Eric had hoped she would, as much has he had enjoyed making it for her.

_"Oh, that look in her eyes!"_ Eric thought, smiling wistfully. His little mermaid had simply no idea of how lovely she was in so many ways, and her innocence served only to magnify her many ineffable beauties, not the least of which was her wonder at everything new. And _all _of Eric's world was new to Ariel.

Eric's only regret at his little act of legerdemain was that he couldn't be there to actually see the look on Ariel's face when she had her first taste of his favorite drink. More importantly, he just _had_ to know if she had said anything about _him_. It would make him feel so much better if she had, if her thoughts had been of him after everything she had been through this morning, after everything _he _had _put her through_.

Coming to the landing to the Main Hall, he stopped. Mounting the stairs to his left was a dark-haired man, somewhat older than himself. The man was both richly dressed and immaculately groomed, and carried a satchel of fine black leather in his left hand. Private Jørgen Voss accompanied him, but Eric had never seen the man before.

"Sire," the young soldier began, coming to attention and saluting, "Doctor Østerby, to see the Princess."

Eric returned the man's salute with a respectful nod, then turned his eyes to the man he was escorting and extended his hand. "Thank you Private."

The man extended his own in return, and offered a firm handshake which Eric returned.

"Doctor Østerby?" Eric asked.

"Yes, sire." The man bowed slightly given his somewhat precarious position on the final step below the landing. "At your service your Highness."

Eric smiled sadly, studying the man. "Pardon my confusion Doctor, I admit, I was still … expecting your father." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand and stepping back to allow Østerby and Voss room on the landing. "Please forgive me and God rest his soul. If it is any consolation, I miss him … we all do."

"Sire, it was most kind of you to attend the funeral, and mother was very honored by your concern and the generous stipend you offered her. I hope that I can repay your kindness. But may I be so bold as to ask where the young lady, the Princess, is? I understood it was a matter of some urgency."

"Ah, yes, Ari … Princess Ariel, she's upstairs in the western guest room on the third floor. Her door is guarded outside, so you can't miss it. Private Voss will show you there." he looked to the young soldier who nodded in silent acknowledgement.

"And how is she, what befell her, may I ask?"

"She's feeling better I think, much better than earlier at least. We were out on the quay when she grew upset and fainted in my arms. That's when I brought her inside." Eric lowered his eyes, the memory of his words and their effect on Ariel eating at his conscience.

"She fainted? May I ask what the conditions were, was there come causative factor, your highness?"

Eric continued, nodding, but in a most unprincely fashion was unable to meet Østerby's eyes. "She had been out on the quay in the swelter and under the sun for some time before I was able to reach her, how long I don't know. But while she was out there, she heard some of the sailors and workmen saying things … bad things … about her I'm afraid. That's what upset her."

"Ah, I see, so her emotions have been attacked as well as her constitution." The doctor observed. "But you said her condition has improved?"

Eric nodded again, looking up at the Doctor, "Yes. The Princess has been resting for thirty minutes or so and drinking water ever since she came to. Mistress Carlotta is attending her in her bedchamber."

Østerby paused, nodding his head and taking in what the Prince had told him. "By your leave sire, I'll go attend to her now."

Eric nodded and smiled grimly, "Take good care of her, Doctor, please. She means everything to me." Then he paused, reflecting on something before he continued, "It's 'Nils,' isn't it?"

Surprised, the Physician almost smiled. The Prince knew his name. "Why, yes it is sire."

"Alright Nils." He nodded to the man and extending his hand once again. "Let me know how she is."

Østerby returned the Prince's gesture and shook his hand, sizing him up once again. The Prince was tall, strong, and had a solid grip. He had been well raised by his Minister, the Physician thought, but he was still young.

Turning to the English sheephound seated next to him, the Prince continued "Come on Max, let's go find Grimsby." He nodded once again to Østerby and Voss, then continued down the stairs.

Max paused for a moment, looking at the new man quizzically, whined, then quickly followed after his master.

As Eric descended the stairs, he reflected on what had earlier come to pass, the effect his careless words had had upon his bride-to-be. The despairing look she had given him haunted him and was now seared into his mind like no other image he could remember save maybe for the flames of Christiansborg … and his mother's final screams.

Then he considered the all too recent memory of that _thing_ Ariel called the _Witch_ towering far above him. _That too was seared into his mind_.

_"God, please forgive me for what I've done to her."_ he prayed, slowly shaking and lowering his head as he came to the doors of the Guest Library.

Inside he found Grimsby, pacing about with pipe in hand. Eric looked up at his Minister who met his gaze with one of deepening alarm. "Eric," he asked, "what is it, has something … happened? Is she _well_?"

Eric stopped and leaned heavily back against the paneled wall on the doors' left. He tilted his head back until he was looking at the ceiling, then closed his eyes.

"Eri…."

"She's _fine_ Grim, she's _fine_…" Eric interrupted, then sighed heavily. "Doctor Østerby should be with her now. I met him on the way down here."

"Then, my boy," Grimsby continued gently as he stepped over to the young man, "… what seems to be the matter?"

Lowering his head and eyes to the floor, Eric's chest heaved for a moment as he drew in a long, pained breath. "I almost _killed_ her Grim …" With that the Prince paused, then continued softly, "... just like I killed _Mother_." Then he turned to face the wall as he buried his head in his crossed arms.

"Oh, Eric … such nonsense, be reasonable. We've been over this again and again." He paused before continuing. "Your mother's death was _not your fault_! You were only a child for Heaven's sake! And you did absolutely nothing to harm poor Ariel this morning."

The old man paused, then smiled wryly, "On the _contrary_, I saw very well how you held and protected her, and I was _very, very_ proud of you. Any young lady should be honored to have such a gallant defender, as I am sure our little Ariel is."

"Grim, it was _my_ words. _My stupid words_ were what almost killed her." Eric raised his eyes to the right to meet Grimsby's.

Stepping closer to Eric's side, Grimsby laid his hand on the boy's shoulder as might a father. "Eric, if I might remind you, you just yourself said that the young lady is just _fine_."

Eric nodded, his head still buried in his arms. "She's better Grim." He replied, "But … she looked so … so … spent."

"That was not _your_ doing, though, was it? You did all that you could my boy."

"What do you mean Grim? Ariel _fainted_ right in my arms because I wasn't thinking of her first when I spoke. She panicked _because of me_. That's not exactly what I consider doing my _best_."

"My boy, I think that the Princess was just overwrought from the sun and sultry air. Imagine, our poor little mermaid suffering under that infernal heat." Grimsby shook his head in dismay.

_"Our little mermaid,"_ Eric mused to himself. How lucky he and Ariel were that Grimsby had accepted the girl so quickly and with such deep affection. That Grim was so welcoming to her said a great deal about both the man and Ariel herself.

It _could_ have been otherwise of course; given the fantastic _otherworldly_ circumstances surrounding the girl's arrival in his life old Aubrey Beauclerk could have fought their love every bit of the way, making it all but impossible. But Grim had instead _embraced_ Ariel. It was something to be thankful for, but it wasn't enough to amend what Eric's thoughtlessness had done to her earlier.

"No Grim, that wasn't it, not all of it at least; you should have _seen_ the look on her face. Didn't you hear her crying, her _choking_ on her own tears?" Eric continued, a darkness clouding his countenance and words. "And my words, they only made it worse. A _lot_ worse."

"Well," Grimsby began, "of course, it cannot be easy for her, the poor dear, wanting so much for everyone to love her and then being treated so cruelly out of nothing other than rude gossip and nonsensical beliefs." The old gentleman paused, considering his next words. "But your words and thoughts were of nothing other_ than_ her, were they not?"

"What do you mean Grim?" Eric replied, lowering his arms and turning now to look back at the elderly Beauclerk, a puzzled look on his face.

"Eric, you _were_ defending the woman you love, were you not? How could your words be anything _other _than benevolent thoughts for _her_?"

Eric sighed, looking at the man, then shook his head. "I need to do _better_ than that Grim."

"Well then, just as you've as you have taken such a sudden interest in sparring with the good Captain, perhaps some practice in oratory and rhetoric is in order? Not to mention the studies you've been neglecting. … Socrates awaits!" Grimsby added, a wry smile curling his rather thin lips.

Eric sighed. "Grim, I _hate_ the classics. They bore me to death. At least if I know how to fight well I can actually protect her from God knows what is coming for her next."

At this, Aubrey Beauclerk lifted his left hand to his heart as though struck through it, shaking his head in dismay. "And that limited thinking, my young fellow, is why you found yourself wanting for the right words this morning, isn't it? Is not the opinion of your own good people just as much a threat as some oceanic monstrosity? Why, you…"

"Grim," Eric interrupted slowly, "We actually _had_ _to fight_ after the British left, or don't you remember? If it hadn't been for those American ships showing up when they did, we wouldn't be having this conversation, _would we_?

"Ah yes, quite harrowing that, but as to whether _their_ aid was necessary or not is a matter between you and the good Captain, but hating the classics? Oh, _really_ Eric. If only you invested yourself more deeply in your studies; then you would understand how very important such knowledge is, especially to a King ... _if he wants to be a good one that is_. Besides, is it not the least that you could do for _her_; and not just her, but God willing, _for all of your people_ the day you wear the Two Crowns."

"I'll _never_ be king Grimsby. And I'm _glad_ that I won't. I'll never put my little mermaid through what those _bastards_ did to Mother. _Never_."

Grimsby smiled, though shocked at his young charge's _vulgar_ choice of words, then continued. "Watch your tongue young man, if you wish to remain a gentleman you will temper your speech. You wouldn't want your young lady to hear you making such utterances would you?"

"No." Eric whispered in reply. "No I wouldn't. I'm sorry Grim."

"Yes, I thought not. But concerning the kingships, I should say that yours is _wishful thinking_ young man. You are but three heartbeats away from the thrones of both Denmark and Norway, and if I must say so, it is a poor calculus to dismiss that fact, especially given the King's precarious state."

The old Parliamentarian stopped, pausing for a moment as he sized Eric up, then adjusted his strategy. "At the very least then, devote yourself to something you may dislike but need, for _her_ sake. Do you thinks she likes wearing heavy gowns and court shoes? She was a mermaid for goodness sake! The poor thing had probably never worn a thread of clothing in her entire life before meeting _you … Heaven perish the thought_!"

"Shells Grim, she wore _seashells_. And if you ask me she really seems to enjoy the clothes she's been wearing." Then the prince paused before continuing wistfully as he thought of Ariel the night before, when she sang so beautifully in his arms, "I've sure enjoyed _seeing_ her _wearing_ them." Eric smiled softly as he remembered how happily she had looked up at him then from the warmth of his embrace, her gown and hair and slight but elegant jewelry combining with her natural beauty as they danced to hold him in nothing short of a state of awe. Oh, the effect she had on him, Eric thought … Ariel had simply _no idea_.

Grimsby interrupted the pleasant memory. "Well, even if she did _not_ enjoy adorning herself so, I am quite certain from what I have already seen of _her_ that if she knew that it pleased _you_ or even if it was what she thought that _you_ _needed_, she would do it for _your_ sake. But I agree, the Princess does seem to be rather delighted in those lovely things our Mistress Othilde has conjured up for her …"

The old man paused. "… Such a vision."

Realizing that they had gotten badly off topic, Grimsby looked back at the young prince, "Tell me my boy. Exactly what _were_ you aiming at out there?"

"Huh?" Grimsby's words jolted Eric out of his reverie. "Oh." he said, falling quiet for a moment. "Grim, it's just that … there's a lot of truth in what he _said_, but he has his _identities _mistaken. Henrik thinks that _Ariel_ was … _is_ … the _witch_."

"And … a _mermaid_." Grimsby added.

"That's the true part, but he doesn't know anything about Ursula or whatever Ariel said that _thing's_ name was_." _Eric paused, shuddered, thinking of the inhuman horror that had held his mind fast in its unyielding grasp. Thwarting his every movement, even though his mind had been screaming _"No!"_ at every instant.

The prince sighed and lowered his head to his hand. "And we have to come to terms with it … _soon_."

"Wait," Grimsby started, considering the boy's earlier words, "Eric you _know_ him, that sailor fellow?" the gentleman added in surprise.

Eric nodded, seeming surprised. "Grim of course I do, I've sailed with most of them for years. His name is Henrik Knudsen, and he's actually a really good man, the salt of the earth." The boy paused after a moment of reflection, then continued, "We go back a long way, to when I was still with father." Eric stopped, lost in thought. "He's my _friend_ Grim, and I owe him _a_ _lot_. He and Hans were the two men, other than you I mean, who really took me under their wings after father sent me away."

"Hans? Do you mean Mr. Sael, that old chap to whom you were speaking out there on the quay?"

Eric nodded.

"Ah, I see." Beauclerk paused for a moment, deep in thought, as though reflecting upon the past and that part of Eric's life spent at sea. "Well, your friend or not Eric, good man or not, that fellow Knudsen, I've seen _his like_ before. His mind is already made up, and I wonder if any amount of argument will convince him that he is wrong."

"Grim, I just don't know what to do." Eric sighed.

At this, Grimsby smiled, "That, my boy, is why _I _am here for you, and why I have _always_ been here for you. I made a promise, and as I see things, there is only one thing that you _can_ do … _must_ do … which is ironically … _exactly _what you were doing."

Aubrey Beauclerk paused, letting the point sink in, letting his words work their way into Eric's heart and mind. "Get right back out there and argue him down and keep the _truth_ as your ally. He is the one who is _mistaken_ Eric. You just have to show everyone out there that he is wrong, even if you cannot convince your old friend. Use the facts of the matter against him."

Eric considered this quietly, then nodded in silent assent.

"Your highness." A firm knock and voice at the door broke the silence. It was Carlson's.


	6. Chapter 6 – Heroic Medicine

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 6 – Heroic Medicine**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:15 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

"I'll take that to mean that you like it, honey." Carlotta laughed sweetly, watching Ariel's little experience with Heaven suffuse the girl's entire being like a dream. That was so sweet of Eric, Carlotta thought, and just a little on the naughty boyish side, teasing the poor thing like that.

Ariel looked up from her position against the headboard of the bed where she lay ensconced in a mass of pillows, a blanket half turned over her legs. "It's … it's wonderful!" she said, smiling sweetly back to the Housekeeper.

At that moment, something at the door caught the girl's eye. A man had stepped into the room, but it wasn't Eric, it was a soldier of the palace guard. For a moment he looked just to the door, but then turned his head and didn't stop until his eyes met hers. Ariel had so hoped it would be Eric, for she missed him so already.

This young soldier, though, he reminded her of a certain boy she had known before everything had spun so wildly out of control, when that boy had been her only true friend besides her sisters, and Archimedes, the latter of whom she seldom ever saw. Ariel smiled innocently at the young man, but feeling herself blushing, quickly lowered her eyes. Carlotta noticed the girl's reaction and turned to the door, which had by then clicked quietly shut.

"Dear," she asked delicately, turning back to Ariel, "What was that all about?"

"The guard, he was blushing when he looked at me." The girl replied quite innocently as she smiled softly again at the housekeeper. The girl closed her eyes and lowered her head.

Instantly, Carlotta's look of concern faded and was replaced by her own gentle smile as she sat down next to the girl, "Well, he's not the only one blushing now, is he?" the Housekeeper asked.

At this, Ariel shook her head softly as she blushed even more furiously. The girl looking down to her glass. "I miss Eric." She took a sip from her glass.

Reaching over, Carlotta stroked the girl's beautiful red hair, trying to comfort her.

"Where _is _that Doctor?" the woman asked, looking with a little irritation in her eyes to the door. "We can't wait forever, can we?" Sergant Lundgren had informed her of the man's imminent arrival, as he had been seen by the tower sentries returning with Private Voss on horseback.

"Honey," she said, turning to Ariel, "How are you feeling?"

Ariel looked up, smiling softly at the woman as she sipped at her glass again. "Better. A little light headed. And I still feel … warm."

Actually, she felt much better, infinitely better than she had felt out under the hot sun, in that stifling air, but that man Knudsen's words still assailed her and echoed mercilessly in her mind. Here at least, inside in her own bedchamber, the only place in this new world that seemed even partially _hers_, she felt comforted, almost at home. Of course, it wasn't her _grotto_, but it _was_ rather cool with the freshening sea breeze wafting through the open balcony doors. She felt safe with Carlotta, at least for now, especially now that she knew that there was someone kind outside watching over her while Eric wasn't nearby.

It felt so nice, to have someone care for her here, like Attina had back at home. Ariel wondered if this might be what it was like having a mother who wasn't just her eldest sister. Actually, she wondered this quite a lot when Carlotta was with her, for the woman positively doted over her, which Ariel rather liked, though she felt embarrassed to admit it. She had liked it when Attina doted over her too, but didn't wish to let the older girl know either … she had never wanted to be a burden. At this, Ariel thought sadly how she missed all of her sisters, Attina most of all, and wondered if she would see any of them ever again.

As she finished the last of the glass, Ariel set it down beside her on the nightstand, then turned and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Carlotta and laying her head against her neck. Tears ran down the girl's cheeks.

The Housekeeper sat stunned as her young charge embraced her like her own daughters once had long ago. It was all the woman could do to not cry herself. Instead, as she fought her own tears and gently wrapped her arms around the young woman.

"There, there, honey," the woman said softly, returning the girl's embrace. "What's wrong?"

Ariel shook her head gently against Carlotta's neck, and without looking up, softly replied "_Nothing_," and then paused. "No … I … I mean …_thank you_." the girl sniffed.

"Thank you?!" Why, _whatever for_ sweetheart?"

"For being so _good_ to me." the girl replied in almost a whisper. "I've been such a little guppy."

"A … a 'guppy'?" she paused, puzzled by the remark. "Now, what is that dear?"

Ariel pulled back and looked up at her, now puzzled herself, her eyes somewhat red again from her tears, tears that Carlotta was thankful the girl now had to cry.

"A guppy, dear."

"Oh," Ariel said, as she lowered her head, laying it back on the Housekeeper's shoulder. "It's what we call babies, 'little fish' I mean." The girl smiled softy. "My sisters always said I was a little guppy when I was afraid of things. I was always the baby of the family."

"Ohhh, sweetie, my _little fish_." Carlotta laughed sweetly. "You're just _fine _dear! Now, don't you worry! After what _you've_ been through _anyone_ would cry, and they would have every right to do so."

"But I've been so much trouble, and you've still been so nice to me."

"Oh, but honey … I _love_ you! You're so sweet and caring, how _couldn't_ I!?" the Housekeeper replied, now feeling her own eyes growing wet. "I knew when I first laid eyes upon you how you had to be, I just knew; sweet as sugar and gentle as a lamb, with just a little bit of spice … and such a pretty little thing too." She hugged Ariel even more tightly now, rocking the girl in her arms, and the girl nestled herself even more against her. "Do you know how I knew?"

Ariel blushed, shaking her head softly against the Carlotta's shoulder and neck, but otherwise hardly moving in the woman's arms.

Carlotta laughed, "Why, by how you carried yourself, so innocently, and by how you blushed so around my Eric, just like you're blushing now. Why it was everything the poor boy could do to keep his eyes off you in that flimsy bit of sailcloth he found you in, and having to carry you half the way to the Palace."

Ariel smiled deeply now, closing her eyes as she leaned against this kind, loving woman. How could she have been so lucky, she wondered, not only to find Eric, but almost a family that loved her, and more importantly, _wanted_ her?

"Our little foundling … our castaway. And here we are, and I was _right, _wasn't I?" Carlotta soothed.

They were both crying now, but they were mostly tears of happiness, the tears of a mother who had lost two daughters, and the tears of a daughter who had lost her mother. They had found each other though, and it was _wonderful_.

For a short while they just sat together like that, as Ariel immersed herself deeply in Carlotta Grimaldi's unconditional love and affection. Ariel knew she didn't deserve to be loved as Eric and his _family_ seemed to love her. Indeed, she really hadn't allowed herself to believe that humans could even _be_ so loving. Yet here she was, in the arms of a human woman treating her as her very own _daughter_. _"Oh, Daddy, how wrong you were, if you could only see …" _she thought, then added, _"… but, how I miss you so too."_

Ariel pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes so that she could see Carlotta more clearly. A lovely soft smile now adorned the girl's blushing face. "It's just … I don't know what I…"

A gentle but insistent knock sounded at the door. Both women looked to it in disappointment, a glare of unmistakable irritation on the Housekeeper's face.

"Ladies, Doctor Østerby has arrived. Is the Princess ready to receive him?" it was the muffled voice of one of the guards who Carlotta recognized as the young soldier named Voss.

Carlotta couldn't remember his first name, as was still the case with the many of the soldiers of the guard given their comings and goings, but she was working to amend that deficiency. The woman looked to the girl in her arms who in return smiled softly and nodded. Carlotta helped the maiden back to the pillows.

"Yes, please enter." The Housekeeper replied, standing now.

The door opened and the soldier stepped smartly into the room. Ariel recognized him as the same one who had caught her gaze before, yet this time, his eyes remained distant, as though looking through the far wall of her bedchamber.

A dark haired man followed him, one who struck Ariel as quite handsome, though she had never seen him before. This wasn't the kind old human who had tended her deep exhaustion, scrapes and bruises shortly after she had arrived. This man was younger, much younger. Once again, she felt self-conscious, and swallowed, wishing for another drink of water, but found herself too anxious to ask.

"Doctor Østerby?" Carlotta asked.

"Why yes, Madame, Nils Østerby, the very same; and you must be Mistress Grimaldi?"

"Yes Doctor. But everyone calls me Carlotta. Please accept my condolences for your father's passing. It was a terrible shock to all of us."

Ariel felt the blood drain from her face. The kind old healer who had tended her … he had … died?! Why hadn't Eric _told_ her? He had _died_? Ariel felt a sudden fear creeping into the back of her mind. Death was something that she didn't like to think about. It was something that had given her nightmares all of her life, and something she had had to confront when her world had almost come crashing in upon her just weeks ago. She had known so few who had passed in her previous life, who had died, actually _none_ now that the she thought about it. None other than her _mother_ that is. That humans thought of death so often … so easily … that they _died_ so very often … it frightened her. _Mortality_ frightened her … not only her mortality … but Eric's.

"Ahh, well, it was kind of so many of the staff of the Christiansborg to attend his funeral along with the Prince. My family and mother were quite touched by the great outpouring of feeling for dear father." The physician looked and smiled gently at the Housekeeper, his eyes alight with a quick charm and intelligence. Much to her surprise, Carlotta felt herself blush. This young doctor was a very attractive and charming young man, she thought.

"Err, yes Doctor. Allow me to introduce you to Princess Ariel."

"Ah, my dear Princess … your Highness." he smiled, turning down to the young maiden on the bed below. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Doctor Nils Østerby, and I …

Nils froze the moment his eyes met the girl's. She looked up at him quite shyly, seeming almost unwilling to meet his eyes. She was stunningly beautiful; youthful, a woman, yet still almost a girl, but with such strikingly beautiful hair and eyes as he could hardly find words to describe.

As he considered her he realized that she was quite petite, no more than perhaps five feet and half a handful of inches. Her skin and figure were flawless, and she was easily one of the loveliest young women he had _ever_ seen, and certainly one of the most _striking_.

After a slight pause, he summoned the full strength of his wits and will to regain his previous sentence and bring it to completion. "… shall be examining you and treating you as necessary." He set his dark case upon the floor beneath her.

Ariel watched now as the man turned and stepped to the far southeastern corner of the room opposite her bed and took a footstool in hand (she didn't know its name at the time, as was the case with so many things of the human world, and would only learn it much later). Then turning back to her, he returned to her side, setting the seat next to both bed and bag. Ariel watched, wondering what would come next.

"So, my dear, I understand from your fiancé that the sun has had the better of you today?" he asked gently, smiling at her in a way that made the girl struggle not to blush, a struggle she didn't entirely succeed in.

"I … I guess I fainted." the maiden replied, with something like embarrassment in the way she looked away from the man now seated beside her. "But I'm feeling better now." She turned and smiled innocently. "I've been drinking water and le … lemonade since I came to."

Nils was pleased, by not negating his assertions that the Prince was her betrothed this lovely young Ariel had unwittingly confirmed her relationship with the young man. Either that or she was being polite and didn't wish to correct him, Østerby thought. Still, it was a starting point.

"Water _and_ lemonade, well, that sounds good enough." he laughed, smiling at the girl until she too smiled in return and giggled. "Very well, let's examine you shall we?"

"Now, please let me know if you object to anything that I do. I endeavor to be a gentleman, but the practice of medicine sometimes demands uncommon measures." he asked, stopping to look Ariel right in the eyes.

As the man's eyes caught her own, Ariel froze, nodding her head softly, wondering what he meant but soothed by his words and gentle manner.

From the foot of the bed, Carlotta watched the exchange between the young gentleman and her charge, alert for any sense of impropriety in either word of deed, but found nothing … amiss.

Østerby smiled at the girl lying beside him, a girl who followed his every move with curious eyes as though he might work some wonder of magic. Having examined many people, including many young women, Nils immediately recognized what he had been looking for in the young woman, a certain newness in her demeanor which was simultaneously endearing and alarming. Even the most naïve ingénue that he had examined hardly compared to the young woman now beside him. He wondered about the strange rumors from the wedding a month before, and resolved to confirm them.

"I'll be feeling the temperature of your body and assessing your humoral balance. Now, this will involve compression of the various extremities to detect the presence of edema, or more severely, various manners of plethora."

Ariel looked at him questioningly. "What is … edema."

"An overabundance of humoral fluids my dear, the plethoral case being most severe." the doctor replied.

"Mistress Carlotta, could you remove the young lady's shoes and stockings. To begin with, I shall need to examine her feet."

"Errr, yes Doctor, of course." the Housekeeper replied, somewhat concerned that a gentleman would come so close to touching a young lady to whom he was not at least betrothed but giving the Doctor the benefit of the doubt. Carlotta did know something of medicine though, having midwifed more than a few babies in her years, and mended more than her share of scraped knees and little cuts for not only Eric, but her own children, and now Ariel. Still, she saw nothing untoward.

"Ariel, give me your right foot dear." The housekeeper looked up and then laughed gently as she saw the confused look on the girl's face. "No honey, I'm not _taking_ your foot, I just mean for you to lift it up for me."

"Oh," the young woman replied softly, raising her right leg. Carlotta slipped the light blue shoe and attendant stocking off the girl's leg, noting that Ariel had been able to fully dress herself this morning. Her little fish was learning.

As Ariel watched, Carlotta smiled and moved to the other leg. Ariel started and gasped slightly as she felt the doctor take her foot in his hand. The older human healer had never touched her feet like this, and only her sisters, father, and now Eric had ever touched her so. She felt the man's hands gently squeeze at the foot, kneading each toe one at a time. As he moved to the body of her foot, she found the sensation quite relaxing, especially having stood for so long today. Ariel watched in fascination while Carlotta laid her shoes and stockings onto a nearby table.

"All seems to be in order, though somewhat warm as might be expected." Østerby offered, smiling at the girl. As he suspected, her feet were incredibly fair, and unnaturally soft. There was not a hint of a callus on either, and her toes and toenails were perfect, showing no sign of illness other than a slight swelling and warmth, entirely consistent with a trying morning on foot in the sun. While the word _"dainty"_ was almost a cliché, it seemed uniquely appropriate to _this_ girl's elegant feet, which seemed to have never known hard surface, injury or exertion.

"At this point, I'll need to compress your lower leg muscles. I promise it won't hurt, and I shall use a mirror in the examination in order to not offend your honor, my dear." Østerby looked back to Carlotta, tacitly seeking her approval. The Housekeeper nodded as the Doctor turned back to the girl in his care. "Princess?"

"Oh … yes." Ariel nodded, again, not really understanding what he actually meant by _"… offend her honor."_

At this Østerby removed an object from his satchel. It was rimmed in brass or gold, and reflected the light of the room as he unfolded it and set it on the bed. Fascinated, Ariel leaned forward now, trying to discern what it was. Her own reflection greeted her. _"A mirror." _she whispered as a smile crept across her previously absorbed face.

She was startled then by the sensation of the doctor's warm hands and strong fingers as they slipped up her ankle to her calf. She felt the same kneading motion he had used before. Finding it quite pleasant and relaxing, Ariel lay backwards and closed her eyes, musing to herself that she needed to ask Eric to examine her sometime too. No caress of her tail or fins had ever felt like this. But it might have to wait until after they were married. Ariel smiled to herself at the thought of it.

Watching through the mirror, Østerby smiled, knowing the effect he was having on the girl. It was also useful to know that what signs she had of edema were slight if any, and her warmth was diminishing. After perhaps three minutes, he finished and moved on the girl's left leg, all the while never letting his eyes leave the mirror, nor did he cease to note the Housekeeper's intense scrutiny of his actions with this lovely young woman.

"There. That part is done. There is some slight swelling, which does indicate the presence of edema, not too severe I think. Shall we have a look at your hands?"

Given that the examination of her feet and lower legs had proven so pleasant, the now relaxed former mermaid opened her eyes and smiled, sitting up to offer her right hand to the healer.

Østerby smiled at her and laughed in a charming way that somehow alarmed Ariel, not because there was any malice in it, but because of how it made her heart skip a beat. Ariel blushed noticeably again now, and that, she didn't like. After struggling for a moment with what to do about it, the girl closed her eyes again and thought of Eric, wishing again that he were there with her.

The girl felt the examination begin with her hand and proceed to her elbow. In like fashion, the Physician kneaded and massaged her other arm until it too had lost all tension and felt quite weak. This was much more pleasant than the examination the man's poor father had given her weeks ago. By this point, Ariel was very relaxed.

As with her feet and legs, Nils noted that the maiden's hands and arms were also unnaturally, almost perfectly, smooth and soft. No woman he had ever examined or been intimate with had such perfect features. Now Østerby was almost convinced, but there was one last task required to confirm his suspicions.

"Well, that is it. I can confirm the presence of minor edema and regret that I must prescribe a remedy to prevent its worsening." He looked to Mistress Grimaldi.

Ariel opened her eyes, a look of confusion filling them. _"Was something wrong with her?"_ she asked herself, after all, she had been feeling so much better.

"Doctor, are you sure?" Carlotta asked, "The dear seems so much better than she did just an hour and a half ago."

"Yes, Mistress Grimaldi, I'm afraid so." He looked back at the girl who as now looking back at him with concern.

"What has happened is that prolonged exposure to the sun's withering heat has depleted the phlegmatic balance of the Princess's constitution, leaving an overabundance of blood." Østerby paused. "Left untreated, that imbalance will undoubtedly intensify, they always do in these climes, creating a most severe sanguinary plethora. Left untreated, the consequences could be most severe, certainly leading to morbidity, possibly rupture of the heart."

"Rupture of the heart!?" the girl gasped. Ariel looked to Carlotta, now looking quite fearful. Was that what happened when humans let the sun dry them out?

Everything the human healer had said sounded increasingly frightening by the way and in the tone he had said it. Ariel was very sensitive to such nuances in sound and speech, but she had no idea of what anything he had said actually meant.

Unfortunately, neither did Carlotta. "Doctor Østerby, please tell me what exactly do you propose?"

"Venesection."

"Venesection?" both Ariel and Carlotta replied, Ariel more haltingly.

"Yes, I'm afraid the best curative is that the Princess _be bled_." He paused for a bit more than was necessary, allowing the words to sink in deeply. He noted approvingly that the maiden's alarmed look did not worsen into either panic or hysteria, meaning that she was either most unnaturally calm or else had never been subjected to phlebotomy.

The Housekeeper, on the other hand, at first blanched, and then turned white as a ghost. "But, doctor…" she started to object, but Nils was ready for her, ready to spring his first trap.

"Not to worry Madame, not much will be necessary to forestall a worsening of the edema and restore her humoral constitution back into balance. But to delay invites a quick worsening. There's little risk I assure you."

Carlotta was about to reply half-heartedly when Ariel interrupted.

"Doctor, what is a ve …ven …" Ariel started.

"Venesection my dear Princess, also called phlebotomy." Nils noted how instantly the girl's eyes fixated upon his as he turned his eyes back to her. That might prove useful in the future. But for now it was essential to calm the girl long enough to get her blood. "It is an operation to restore the humoral balance which can use a variety of fine instruments to its purpose."

Ariel studied him, confounded by the avalanche of new human words more complicated than any she had previously heard. "Instru … ments?" she asked wide-eyed, leaning forward now, her eyes never leaving his.

_"Her voice." _Nils thought to himself._ "Her English is quite good but she seems to lack in vocabulary and experience."_

"Yes! Shall I show you an example?" he asked, already presuming the answer. Before the girl was even aware he had reached into his bag and pulled out a fine black leather case. Gently, Nils took the girls left hand, having already discerned that her right hand was the dominant, and laid the case in her palm.

The princess looked from him, down to her left hand, then up at him, a look of awe and emergent discovery in her lovely blue eyes. For a moment, Nils found himself stunned, as he marveled at the depth of those eyes, their perfection and innocent air of wonder and awe. Then he found himself again, and regained his purpose in this whole affair.

"Go ahead," he said, smiling charmingly at the young woman "Open it. There, you see? There's a little latch on the side."

Ariel smiled back, the thrill of discovery erasing any fear or doubt she had previously had – it wouldn't last. Inspecting the case the young woman found the aforementioned latch and with nimble fingers and clever mind quickly gained its release. She slipped the stiff black cover back and off, revealing a beautiful box of handsome polished metal inside … golden metal. The girl gasped. "What is it?!" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"This, my dear," the doctor said, reaching to the instrument, "is a scarificator, one of the finest ever made, or at least that I am aware of. I had it commissioned myself just last year in fair København."

Again, the doctor's words proved a huge wave of unfamiliarity threatening to drown the former mermaid's understanding of what he was saying. Actually, that had already happened several minutes before. Now, she was simply being carried along by the tide of his charm, and the trust he had built in her, exactly to where Nils Østerby _wanted_ her to be.

Looking up at him and to the beautiful object in his hands, Ariel's curiosity continued to pull her along, never sensing the next trap that was about to be sprung upon her, nor even that there was peril in the first place. "What does it … _do_?" she asked, the same awe as before ringing in her lovely, innocent voice.

"Well, my dear princess, allow me to demonstrate." He paused, grasping the device and twisting it with powerful fingers until Ariel heard a click. "Now … it is armed."

"Armed?"

"Yes my dear. Once placed against the skin and triggered, the blades, there are sixteen of them, painlessly lacerate the skin to attack and breathe the superficial blood vessels, allowing the drainage of the sanguinary plethora."

"I … I don't understand." the girl said innocently, her eyes wide now and a growing hesitancy in her soft voice.

As he returned the girl's gaze with his own, Østerby continued to consider the character of her speech and voice, "_Her accent, it is nearly American yet also at times somewhat British, not that there is that much of a difference between the two, but in her the combination is so elegant and uncommonly euphonious. But that voice, I swear I hear something … else. What is it? How very odd, how very … telling."_

"Watch." Turning the device upside down, Nils revealed sixteen dark parallel slits on its bottom face.

Peering more closely at the device, Ariel inspected its fine lines, finding a strange button on its side, a button upon which the Doctor held his thumb. Then she fixated on the many tiny slits, and as she looked closer, discerned within them a stained crust of dark reddish brown.

Østerby pressed the trigger. Faster than the eye could follow, a blur of slashing blades ripped across the sixteen slits, ending with a wickedly sharp metallic click.

Ariel started, retreating slightly from the man and his device.

_"…the best curative is that the Princess be bled."_ That was what the human healer had said. It was clear now to Ariel what this man intended to do. _"Blood. Human blood."_ she thought. Ariel looked up at him with a look of horror filling her face, the girls eyes went wide. "Carlotta?!"

Having watched all of this with nearly as much fascination as Ariel, Carlotta now reacted with alarm to the obvious fear that had erupted in the girl, moving to her side protectively. "Now, Doctor, isn't there some other way? Something, less, err, frightening to the poor thing. I mean, are you sure she really needs this. It would be a shame to scar her so."

_"Scar her?!"_ Ariel thought, now growing even more fearful as she shrank from the man and his device.

Østerby greatly preferred the scarificator, as it would allow him to obtain the girl's blood in its purest and unadulterated form, which was most optimal for his purposes, but now that this overprotective Housekeeper was expressing doubts, he realized that he could easily lose his opportunity completely.

So he chose a different course, one sure to make the girl much more amendable to the scarificator, while giving the impression that he actually cared about her infantile fears.

"Well, yes Madame. There is another way that I have prepared, but I considered it the less favorable option, given that the patient is a young lady, and a very _delicate_ one at that it seems."

Something about how this human healer had said those last words echoed in Ariel's mind. She decided that while it was acceptable and even nice for Eric to call her "delicate," she didn't care for this man doing so. She wasn't _delicate_, and she had been through more in just her last three years than this human would likely see in his entire lifetime. "I'm _not _afraid_." _Ariel said, raising her beautiful chin proudly as she mustered her courage.

Nils smiled, though not for the reason either Carlotta or Ariel probably thought. The girl had fallen right into his final trap. A pretty little fish caught in a fine silken net. There was no doubt now, he would have his _mermaid's blood_, human or no.

"Good. I knew you wouldn't be. It won't hurt in any case, not much at least. The scarificator then?" he asked hopefully.

"No, the other one, the one you said wasn't for ladies." She replied quietly, her eyes now barely meeting his.

"Ariel, are you _sure_ dear?" Carlotta asked.

Ariel nodded, then looked up to her friend and confidante and smiled proudly. "I want him to see that I'm not some little _guppy_. I'm not _delicate_."

_"An interesting choice of words, that."_ Nils thought, _"… guppy."_

"Ohh, honey, we …"

"My apologies Princess, I meant no offense, but I shall endeavor to do as you wish." Nils replied cheerfully, though truthfully he was somewhat disappointed that he wouldn't be able to use his fine instrument. The other option was so much less ... pure. But it would have to do. In the end, the result would be the same.

"Ahh, here we go," Østerby interrupted, smiling to himself as he listened to young maiden's spirited exchange with Mistress Grimaldi. "… _these_ should be quite sufficient."

Turning back to the girl, he laid a white lidded jar on a silver tray onto the bed before her. The young woman looked on with a sudden curiosity that slowly replaced her earlier defiant pride. _"All the better."_ Nils thought.

"Very well, my dear, lie back and close your eyes. These will go on your neck, and arms, but I promise, you'll hardly feel a thing. You _must_ lie still though, you can crush them. They don't like that."

Remembering that the whole point of this now was to prove she wasn't some little girl, Ariel dutifully summoned her courage again and laid herself back against the pillows. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes. "_They_," she thought. _"You can crush them."_ he had said. _"W … wha … what could they … be?"_ she asked herself.

"Remember now, keep your eyes closed. You'll feel a slight chill." the doctor said in a calm, soothing voice.

"Oh m..." Ariel heard Carlotta's voice suddenly trail off, greatly increasing the girl's growing anxiety.

Something cold and wet touched her neck ... it was moving. Ariel felt a wave of nausea rise in her stomach as an intense crawling sensation gripped her. She fought the sudden urge to panic, trying to not imagine what might be happening to her. Then she felt a sharp sting in her neck ... and froze.

At first it was not very painful, though it was not at all pleasant either, but it was starting to sting … more.

Hesitantly the former mermaid opened her eyes …

… and screamed.


	7. Chapter 7 - In Shining Armor

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 7 – In Shining Armor**

**~ What Was Forgotten ~**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:10 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

In the skies far above the island of Sankt Croix a single wisp of moisture dared to coalesce where warm air rising from the land met the cool breeze blowing from the sea. There were others of course, fair little tendrils of vapor innumerable and infinitesimal that formed and just as quickly dissolved amid the harsh rays of the marred sun. Yet this one little wisp persisted and reaching upward, even flourished, until at last spreading its wings, it was reborn a cloud. For a while its slight shade offered just a little relief to the dry earth below as the cloudlet for a while withstood the onslaught of the mighty eye of day, rolling and rising in exuberant joyful coils of pale cool mist. But then the breeze from the sea slowly slackened and dwindled, until at last it failed. The little cloudlet, no longer then being cooled by the sweet breath of the sea, faltered then, as the fires of midday bore down upon its gossamer substance. At first its fine eddies and currents became confused and then lost their ways. The little cloudlet itself then began to diffuse, to fall apart, to dissolve. Eventually, each little remnant of its former hope for existence wasted into a fading haze of vaguest white, like foam washed wide upon the surface of the raging sea. Then that too was gone, and nothing remained, only the clear and empty sky.

Far below on the eastern side of Christiansborg Palace the sailors of _Lyn_, longshoremen, and hired workmen labored at a new construction. It was to be a makeshift pavilion to protect those there against the harsh sun above. Sailors sat aloft on the upright spars that lined the pier, pulling lines taut and spreading great sheets of canvas across the gap that separated the two sides. Slowly, shade spread across the dock that lay beneath the eastern side of the quay. Excess sailcloth was draped downward along the sides and fastened with lashings as a guard against what would later become a westering sun.

The architect of that pavilion was no longer there with his men. Instead, shortly after sharing his plan with the newly returned Captain Larson and giving his fellow ship's mates instructions, Hans Rubert Sael had hastened with the Captain of the Guard through the Eastern Arch.

Hans had never before passed through those doors, for they represented a part of young Eric's life of which Sael had never been a part, and would never _be_ a part; for it was the life not of a sailor, but of a prince.

"This way Master Sael." Captain Carlson said, looking over his shoulder as he sheathed his sword.

As Carlson walked slightly before him leading the way, Hans dared to look up.

A great vaulted ceiling greeted his eyes, one that must be thirty or more feet in height. Thick pillars of polished golden marble rose at intervals along its length to hold the mighty vaults suspended above. On the far eastern side of the hall a scant few sunbeams fell though high arched windows, angling down in slender strands that betrayed the sun's approach to its zenith. Dust motes floated in that light, each now glowing like a bright and glorious star as it drifted along upon unseen currents of air.

"Ne'er seen any o' _this _afore." Hans said to himself with reverence as he quietly folded his hat and slipped it into the back of his waistband. "Where we goin', Captain'?"

"This Princess' chambers in the Guest Wing above." He replied with some urgency. "Mistress Grimaldi has her quartered on the third floor. It's something of a climb, but it places the young lady high enough that it would be difficult for anyone or anything fell to reach her before my men put an end to the threat."

_"Anything?"_ Hans thought to himself, wondering what the Captain had meant by that. It wasn't as though there were any wolves or any such animals on the isle that might threaten her. _"What worried the man?" _he asked himself, and then determined he would find out.

Carlson's boot steps echoed softly through the hall as the two crossed its length.

Looking down at the floor, Hans noted it was of a polished marble, dark black laced with veins of white while subtle tinges of pale reds and golds could be discerned in its sunlit provinces near the eastern wall. The western wall stood mostly in deep shadow, but the old man could still discern the outlines of great portraits, mirrors and statuary recessed in alcoves too deep and too dim for his old eyes to penetrate.

Down the great length of the chamber ran a carpet of rich Tyrian purple, and at its north end lay a dais.

Upon that dais there sat a chair like a throne, but it was not a throne. It was the Seat of Power of the Isles, the whole of the Danish West Indies, the Jomfruøerne, Prince Christian's personal appanage and the demesne over which his rule as _Prince Eric_ was absolute, at least in theory. Yet the chamber stood disused, as it nearly always had.

Carlson and Sael approached the dais, taking it to their right and immersing themselves in shadow

"So, if ya don't mind me askin', wha' is she _like_?" Hans asked.

"We shouldn't be speaking in here, Master Sael." There was a curtness in the Captain's voice, but also, a pause at the end, pregnant with some meaning Hans could not quite discern.

"Ahh, I see. Sorry abo' tha'. Didn't mean nothin' by it." Hans replied quietly

"The Princess you mean?" the Captain continued, surprising Hans, for they were still quite a distance from the northern doors. "Why would you ask _me _Master Sael? You saw her for yourself this morning, even held her in your arms. You should know better than I, shouldn't you?"

_"A curious tone in the young fellow's voice, almost … envious?"_ Hans thought. "Just curious Captain, seein' as ya' been aroun' 'er since she first came and' all."

"After all 'tis no' e'ery day a fellow gets ta' hold a real _princess_ right in his arms, an' such pretty lil' thing too." The old sailor continued, smiling gleefully like a benevolent grandfather looking upon the newest addition to his family for the very first time. "Reminds me o' my own lil' girl, the Good Lord rest her soul."

The Captain went silent after that, but as they approached the arch guarding the northern entrance to the chamber, Carlson continued, though in a quiet voice, a voice filled with a surprising and sad tenderness. "She's very innocent as one might expect given her young age … and very kind, almost as though she's but a common girl with no pretentions at all to rank, to status. A bit _willful _though at times." He paused then and smiled softly to himself as though relieving some fond memory. "Well … more than a _bit_."

This whole conversation was turning into something of a delight for Hans, given that he had never spoken at such length to the Captain before, and he was learning quite a bit in doing so. As he listened though, Sael was quick to note the nuances of the man's speech and his accent, which weren't like those of most Danes of the Isles. They seemed more, American … perhaps British. Even when he had spoken Danish there was more than something of the trace of an accent.

Coming to the door, Carlson reached down to its handle, then looked back at Hans, smiling at the sailor now. "She's also quick-minded and amazingly curious … like no one else I've ever met."

_"Ah,"_ Hans thought. _"So it comes out then. Not only has the Captain met the young Lady, he fancies her. Now, tha' coul' be a bit o' a problem, especially since the lad seems to know a bit more than he's telling. But, what's the story there?"_ the old man wondered, and of course decided to find out.

Carlson paused, staring back at the now grinning Sael. "You know, I think we've spoken about this before haven't we, a few weeks back? If I recall I said much the same thing then, though I shouldn't have, just as I probably shouldn't be saying anything _now_."

"Beautiful too." Hans added, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head as he grasped the handle of the opposite door and pulled it open.

"What?" Carlson asked, looking over to the old man with a puzzled look on his face.

"I said she's _beautiful _too."

Carlson stepped back with Sael as the great twin doors swung inward towards them.

"Yes." Carlson said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. He seemed suddenly caught up in some thought as he looked down to the floor. "That she is." Then turning to Sael on his left smiled back. "In _many_ ways."

Shadows greeted them as the archway beyond was devoid of windows; only the light streaming through the windows in the far foyer filled their eyes. Carlson entered first, again taking the lead. It seemed to be a habit for the man, though Sael didn't resent it, having followed others and followed well most of his life … save at certain times. It was true that he could lead when the times demanded it, but this wasn't such a time, not yet at least.

"Captain, how is i' tha' ya know she's as ya' say?" Hans asked, pausing for a moment as he followed Carlson through the archway. "Come on now, tell good ol' Hans some more." the old man insisted.

"You ask a lot of questions don't you Master Sael?" Carlson asked, not even looking back. "Well, if you must know, I spar with Prince Eric every weekday morning now before he repairs to breakfast with the Princess, and his favorite subject for conversation … is _her_. Not that I blame him of course."

"So just tha' then, by wha' Eric say's o' her"?

"_Prince _Eric, and no … I have her watched."

"Watched! But why?!"

"Master Sael, are you at all familiar with what happened the night of the Prince's '_wedding'?_"

"Well, err, only from th' rumors an' such."

"Very well then. Hans, _something_ came for the _Princess_ that night, out of the sea, while she was on the wedding barge. I saw _it_."

On the far side of the arched hallway rose a flight of wide stairs on either side, and on the far side of those flights where the arch continued into the first floor of the guest tower could be seen two soldiers of the Guard.

"Something?" Hans asked, his smile fading "Wha'da ya' mean, something?'"

"A _horror_ Hans. Something devilish … _demonic_." Carlson said quietly, then continued "It was like nothing I have ever before seen." The Captain paused silently then. "By the time I had reached the Princess and the Prince it was too late; it had pulled her over the side."

"A horror, a _monster _ya' mean? So them rumors is true then? The Prince followed her o'er the side ta' save 'er?"

Carlson nodded solemnly, guilt now clouding his solemn expression.

"Wel'' yer awful quiet abou' it ain't ya?" Sael jabbed.

"Of course I am _quiet_ about it, she's the Prince's _fiancée_. It's not my place to speak about her no matter _how_ I feel."

"How _you_ feel?" Oh now! How's _that_ Captain?!" Hans said, smiling like the Old Nick himself, realizing he'd finally pried a plate loose from the Captain's armored heart. "And _fiancée_? Ya' that's th' word what' we all ha' been hearing but no one's a heard no' announcement, seen no banns."

"My understanding is that the Prince and Princess plighted their troth alone together some weeks ago, when exactly I don't know for certain Hans."

"And Hans, "Carlson looked back at Sael, then lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, about your daughter I mean."

Stepping into the foyer Hans smiled sadly. "Ah … Don' be sorry Captain, it helps old Hans to talk abou' my Elna when I ca' work 'er in edgewise. Keep's her and 'er mother alive in m' heart."

Carlson nodded solemnly. "Well, then I'll have to ask you to tell me more about them both, seeing as we seem to be working together for the time being." He stopped, looking to the guards who both looked to him as though awaiting his instruction, then turned his head slightly back to face Hans.

But Hans was ready for him. "Now, a getting' back ta' how ya' _feel _sir, how's _that_ Captain, now tha' we're _friends_ and all, you can tell us wha' be eatin' a' ya. Go on now, Ol' _Hans_ won' tell." The Seadog chattered on, grinning widely as he did so.

"Master Sael, is it possible that we might _change_ the subject? I'm rather starting to regret I didn't honor the _quiet_ of the Audience Hall."

The Captain turned to the closest sentry, and in a very different and commanding tone, though still barely a whisper, spoke to the man _"Private Bech, why are you and Private Brandt posted here?_"

"Sir, both the Prince and Lord Grimsby are in the Guest Library. The Prince arrived and joined His Lordship just a short while ago."

"Ah, I _see_. Very Good."

Carlson turned to Sael. "We're in luck. Follow my lead Master Sael."

_"Aye, aye, Captain."_ Hans whispered, thinking to himself that he hardly had an option, had he?

Carlson stood and listened at the open door for a few moments, waiting for a break in the conversation between Prince Eric and Lord Grimsby in the room beyond. Sael heard both of their voices clearly and recognized them from the many long years he had shared with Eric and the few voyages Lord Grimsby had made to accompany and advise the young Prince.

When their words ebbed, Carlson seized the opportunity and knocked firmly on the door. "Your highness."

Lord Grimsby, being the one of the two actually facing the door looked over to the two men standing beyond. "Ah Captain, yes, how may I help you? Is something the matter?"

Eric turned to look behind him, his eyes alighting on both Derek and Hans. The old man stood taller than he normally did and nearly straight, something Eric instantly recognized Sael did in only times of urgency owing to a back that ached with age and injury.

"Derek … Hans?" Eric asked "What is it?"

"Sire," Carlson began, addressing Eric first then nodding to Lord Grimsby "I'm afraid I have a matter of concern to bring to your attention. It concerns the Princess's welfare."

Eric immediately stood up straight from the wall and stared Carlson square in the eye, his attention now fully focused on the man's words.

"This is Master Hans Sael, I believe you are both old acquaintances, so if you will, I'll let him speak."

"Yes, of course, I know Hans well and wanted to speak with him, but Princess Ariel is safe upstairs in her chambers with Mistress Grimaldi and Doctor Østerby. I left her there just half an hour ago, and there are guards posted outside her room, as I'm sure you're well aware Captain."

"Tha' be just it Eric," Hans started informally, dispensing with the young man's title as he had for years at sea when he needed the boy to actually listen to him.

As the old man spoke, Carlson rolled his eyes and Grimsby put his forehead to his hand, shaking his head in dismay. Eric hardly seemed to notice, if he even noticed at all. "Yes, of course, go on Hans." he replied.

"This young Østerby fellow, he ain' like his father. E'er since he came and took o'er his father's practice, he been about his rounds to the ships in port and folk in town chargin' such fees, jus' like those other eight. I mean, like families and ships can afford so much, five and ten times as much as his before. An' o' them ones he _has_ treated …"

There was a whine at Eric's feet followed by a tenuous growl. Looking down Eric saw Max's ears perk as the dog bolted from where he lay around Eric's legs and through the doorway between Sael and Carlson. All eyes followed the sheephound as he disappeared around the corner, barking as he bounded up the stairs.

Carlson's head snapped back to Eric. The instant their eyes met, they both turned without a word and sprinted through the hallway, turning up the stairs of the north foyer with the Captain in the lead. Max's barking receded as the dog quickly outdistanced the two men. As they charged up the stairs, they could hear the screams of a young woman echoing through the shadowed stairwell above. By the time they had gained the second floor landing, the screams had given way to desperate words.

_"Ui! … Ui! … Ván!" _

The voice to whom those screams belonged though was unmistakable. It was Ariel's, and there could be no doubt that whatever assailed her, she was terrified.

_Ui! … Ui! … Áva caaarë!" _the girl screamed.

There was a loud crash followed by other panicked voices that grew louder with every stair that flew by underfoot. Now the sounds of a struggle could be heard just above as Eric strode up the stairs as quickly as his legs would allow. Then the sounds momentarily ceased as a pregnant silence filled the air, only to be split by a final blood-curdling scream.

**_"... Aiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiic!"_**

Wavering and desperate, the maiden's scream faltered … and was followed by dead silence.

Before the two men had reached the third floor landing Eric leapt ahead, vaulting up several stairs with each step. Carlson followed, but Sael and Grimsby lagged woefully far behind, the bitter regret of age hindering them both.

Finally Eric reached the upper landing, and by now his heart was pounding, horrific visions of what could possibly be happening to his little mermaid racing through his mind. Nothing he could think of made even remote sense. She was guarded in a safe place, under the care of both Carlotta and a gentleman Doctor. What could be _terrifying_ his love so?

Arriving at the landing, Eric found Private Thomsen standing there at the door, a look of confusion on his face as he looked from the bedchamber door to the prince. The soldier stood quickly to attention as Eric strode past him into the room beyond. Carlson followed immediately. What greeted the men was chaos.

Strewn about Ariel's bed and floor were various objects, some large, many small, none that the Prince recognized as he desperately sought his objective.

Carlotta stood motionless near the nightstand on the far side of the bed. Following her stare, Eric found his eyes drawn to the head of the bed itself. There, on the far side closest to the window lay Ariel, sitting upright against the headboard with her legs tucked elegantly beneath her, her toes and feet just barely showing from under the hem of her dress.

She was clearly sobbing, her head nodding almost as if she was struggling to stay awake. Both of her slender arms were held out before her, each held fast in the firm grip of Doctor Østerby's hands.

At that something snapped in Eric, something that told him Ariel was somehow in grave danger, though what danger that might be the young prince had no idea. Yet after finding her, his eyes for some reason fixated immediately upon the man who now held her lovely arms captive.

Without further thought the young prince charged and launched himself across the bed.

Østerby turned to the Prince with a calm smile that instantly became a look of alarm as Eric's shoulder slammed into his upper chest, sending the Doctor and his footstool flying towards the balcony.

Ariel's eyes snapped wide open as she cried out, throwing up both arms to shield herself as she recoiled against the headboard. Though she had not seen Eric's assault, she fixated now upon him and Østerby as they wrestled on the floor not far from her bed.

Carlotta immediately went to Ariel's side. "Honey, are you alright?!" she cried as she sought a way to try to soothe the girl, but it wasn't working. The young woman was desperately starting to feel at her neck with both hands.

Before Østerby could react or even speak Eric was back on him, grappling the stunned man around his neck and chest with powerful arms now flush with blood and taut with anger. Twisting sharply to his left, Eric rolled and flung the physician halfway across the room and onto his face, well away from the young Princess.

**_"What were you doing to her?!"_** Eric cried angrily. The prince now spun back around on Østerby and pinned him hard to the floor. "Jens, Derek, hold him!" he commanded.

The Captain and Private Lund fell on the man, seizing the Doctor's arms and legs and heaving him up into a standing position. The man grimaced as his arms were pinned behind him.

"Your highness," Østerby replied, panting now, his left eye now starting to bruise where it had struck the floor. "I was rendering medical assistance to her. Please _listen_ to me. This is all a misunderstanding. The Princess is suffering from an acute but mild sanguinary edema and I was endeavoring to prevent its worsening. I promise you, I was doing _nothing_ to harm her."

Standing, Eric listened to Østerby and at his mention of Ariel's condition turned quickly back to his young fiancée, concern filling his eyes. He immediately saw that Ariel's hands had flown to her neck and she was beginning to panic, desperate whimpers fast growing into something more terrified. On her neck he saw several things, each brownish black and throbbing with its own merciless rhythm as it drew his love's lifeblood from her delicate throat.

Leeches.

Carlotta looked up to Eric from the girl's side, now at a loss for what to do.

"No! No! Hold her _hands_. Don't let her pull them off …! She'll **_bleed to death_** for sure! Do you want her to **_die_**?!" Østerby screamed at the top of his lungs.

Carlson stared at the man, his brow furrowing. "You _bled_ her when all she needed was water and rest! Where is the _sense_ in that Doctor!?" he said, a rage seething in his words.

"And who are you and what are _your_ credentials you common _murderer_?" Østerby shot back. "What know you of medicine that you dare question me, you who _take_ life rather than _preserve_ it? Those leeches are near her _jugular _you _fool_. Believe me, I _know_ my _art_. If she rips them off she'll tear open her own neck, and on all of your heads will her blood be!"

Pausing for a moment, the Captain considered the physician's words. "Wait!" he cried, the blood draining from his face. "The Doctor may be right! Mistress Grimaldi, hold the Princess's hands, _quickly!_ Don't let her touch the leeches." He looked down at the Physician. "And it's not just their _teeth_ to be concerned about, right good Doctor?" he asked in an acid voice, as if trying to make some point to the man.

Distraught and confused, Carlotta took Ariel's hands into her own. For a moment Ariel pulled back and shrieked, flailing wildly with her arms until Carlotta at last caught a firm grip on the girl's tiny wrists. "Ariel … Ariel … no!" Carlotta cried desperately as she tried to calm the girl.

"Uiii! … Uiiii!" Ariel pleaded, her breath coming now in ragged fits, "Ani leryaaa! … Ani leryaaa_ … Aiiriiic!_" she finally cried as she broke down into a fit of helpless sobs.

"Carlotta, give her to me." Eric said softly, kneeling down with care next to the Housekeeper. Gently, he took the girls hands from Carlotta and kissed them as Ariel strained against him. "Ariel, it's me … _Eric_. I'm right here, love. I know you're scared but you're alright, you're not hurt. Can you understand me?"

At the sound of Eric's voice and the tenderness of his touch, Ariel calmed somewhat, but her chest still heaved as she struggled to breathe against her tears. "Ani lerya…" she pleaded. "Airic … Ani lerya."

"Ariel, _English_ … in _English_, I can't understand you. Can you speak _English_ to me?"

At this Ariel looked up with weary eyes that looked at Eric as though she had been utterly defeated, with eyes that pleaded with him to do … something … _anything_.

"Ná … istan quet Inwilya." she said brokenly between sniffs, tears now running freely down her cheeks.

There was a long pause.

"Why … why will you not … _let me go_?" the girl pleaded almost in a pained whisper, then gasped for air, her voice betraying her exhaustion, both of body and mind.

"Let you _go_?!" Eric cried softly in confusion. _"Never!" _Then he paused._ "_Do you mean your _hands_? But … why?"

Eric felt Ariel's arms tremble in his clenched fingers as she closed her tear-filled eyes.

"He put … he put …" she started but, but choked on her own breath as she tried to speak through her worsening sobs. Her slender chest and back began to heave as she gasped for breath.

At this, Eric had had enough. Taking her right arm, he placed her wrist in his left hand with the other and held them both gently … but fast. Then reaching around the young woman with his right arm, he pulled her into him and began to gently stroke the back of her neck, her hair, and then her back.

"It's alright love, you're unharmed and you're safe. Go on … tell me what happened."

Again she tried to speak. _ "He put … sarnalavir _on me, _Airic …_" she cried out pathetically, her eyes still closed.

The girl drew in a series of short gasps, and just as quickly sobbed them back out. "_Nertehendi … _to … to eat me from the inside."

Ariel paused as she struggled, trying to control her breathing. "Please ... don't let them …_ Airic_ … take them _off_ … _please ..._"

"Ariel, what are Ne … nert …" Eric began to ask.

"Nine eyes." a voice said from behind them.

Carlson, Eric, everyone, even the still sobbing young woman looked back to the bedchamber door, and saw Hans Sael standing there. Beside him stood Aubrey Beauclerk.

"The word literally means 'nine eyes.'" Beauclerk repeated, saying the two words slowly. "But what _that_ means I have absolutely no idea."

Ariel looked now to Grimsby, her breathing and sobs easing now as a new curiosity momentarily drew her attention away from her discomfort and fear. _"How does he know the Sea Speech?"_ she wondered. It was just one word, but, how could he know it when she didn't even know the human word … the Faërya word for those things? Was he even right?

Eric continued to hold and soothe Ariel as he cradled her two wrists in his left hand, and it seemed to be helping. This day was proving to be simply awful for his love … horrible, and Eric began to wonder how he could possibly make it right for her.

"Grim, do you know what the other word was?" Eric asked, now looking at the man intently as he relaxed his grip on Ariel's wrists, and took her hands in his instead, feeling that she had finally ceased struggling.

"Other word? My boy, what other word?"

"Sarnavir, something like that" Carlson said, leaving Østerby to Private Lund.

Eric nodded at the Captain's words. "Was _that_ what you said love?" he asked, lowering his head to catch Ariel's eyes with his.

"Sarnalavir." Ariel replied quietly. "I do not … don't … know the Inw … Inglish word … for them."

"Ahh," Beauclerk smiled as he focused his eyes and ears on the distraught young woman before him, hoping to hear her speak more. Indeed, it was the first time he had ever heard their mermaid princess utter anything in her native tongue, so good was her English and her consistency in using it. His smile quickly faded. "I believe that the word means "stone-licker' or some such."

"Lampreys." All eyes turned now to Sael. "Sounds li' she's a' talking 'bout lampreys. 'Nine eyes' is what the Tysk calls 'em too, and fer good reason."

Stepping into the room as though he owned it, the sailor walked across the bedchamber around the foot the bed against whose headboard the young princess now lay coiled, her hands gently held by the Prince that Hans had now known for many years.

"Ya see, them fish, they's like ta' eels, bu' they's not. Got eight slits fer they' gills just right a' hind ther' eyes. Look _mighty_ fierce it does ta' see one, like nine eyes twice o'er a lookin'a' ya' wi' all them wicked rings o' teeth. Rare good eatin' though."

Ariel's eyes followed Hans as he stepped around to her and knelt down beside Eric, looking gently at her. The man Eric had called _'Hans'_ out on the quay now smiled in the same way he had smiled at her just that morning. It was a reassuring smile almost like the one her father shown her when he not long ago returned her to safety from the abyssal caverns, from another adventure gone awry.

He smiled at Ariel and watched her carefully as he spoke, not wanting to frighten her, but instead to scare away her fears of the monstrous fish that he now discerned must _prey_ upon mermaids, at least from what the girl had said and how she had reacted. It made sense that the awful things would, they slew so many other sea creatures, fish especially, and mermaids were half fish, weren't they?

The only problem was that … there weren't any lampreys in the warm waters of the Caribbean. No, those things were creatures of the northern coastal seas and rivers.

"Hello ag'in _Princess_." Hans smiled. "Someone ge' me some linen an' spirits, quick please." he said, then looked to Carlotta, who nodded in return. The woman hastened from the room.

"Humans _eat _Nertehendi?" she asked, her eyes widening in amazement. Of all the dark things in the sea, there were few that terrified the girl more than the vicious nine-eyed _sarnalavir_; only certain sharks, giant squid and a few other deadly things from which she had barely escaped in her many adventures. There were few creatures though that the girl hated so viscerally. That humans actually _killed_ and _ate_ the evil vampire fish now gave the mermaid a strange sense of … _comfort_.

Which is exactly what Hans had wanted. "Ya. Ol' Hans eats a lot o' fish, Princess, no' meanin' offense or ta' scare ya', but them lampreys is _miiighty _tasty." The old sailor flashed a toothy grin at the girl.

At this Ariel blanched but realized there was a nuance in what the man was saying, as though to say that even though he ate fish, _she_ still had no cause to be afraid _of him_. This _Hans_ seemed so gentle, like her father at his kindest, but then again, he was a _fish eater_, just as her Eric had been, and maybe _still was_. Her father's warnings echoed confusingly in her mind. How could some humans be so wonderful, yet still eat fish?

"Sir … Sir? Wha … may I ask _what_ exactly you are doing … you'll hur…" Østerby began before Lund silenced him.

"Shut 'yer _damned_ mouth Doctor, before I come o'er there and shut it fer ya'." the old man said without even looking back at the physician. Smiling at the young maiden before him, Sael continued "Pardon m' sailor's tongue, Princess."

Ariel looked at the man and nodded slightly, wondering what he meant. By now the girl's breathing had calmed considerably. "You're going to take them _off_?!" Her frightened eyes widened in sudden hope.

"Aye, tha' I am, since no one else her seems inclined ta'. I've picked my fair share o' leeches in my years. An' I think this one here is abou' ready to come loose." Hans reached out slowly and gently touched the girl's neck.

_"Leeches?"_ she thought. _"What are 'leeches'?"_ That was what the Doctor had called them when he had tried to calm her after she first screamed. Were they not sarnalavir after all? Had she overreacted and panicked like a little girl? Now Ariel was beginning to feel deeply embarrassed … humiliated, and this after she had tried so hard to be strong … to _not_ be a _guppy_. Whatever they were though, she was still _frightened_ of them … by how they looked, how they moved, how they had made her skin and stomach twist when the Doctor had placed them upon her throat. Just thinking of them in that moment stirred a sense of intense revulsion within her.

Ariel's eyes never left the old sailor and his hand until she could no longer see the latter as it touched her neck, which might have alarmed her had he not continued to look at her reassuringly.

"An' how does ol' Hans know that? Why, a' cause Hans _says_ it's so Princess."

A strange feeling descended upon Ariel as she realized that she could barely feel the man's fingers, for she could no longer feel the front of her own neck. The former mermaid began to tremble as new and fearful tears welled up in her eyes.

Hans though, seeing the change in the girl's composure, did his best to calm her. "Now, don' be afraid no more dear, we'll ha' these off in bu' a minute."

"Master Sael." Carlson's voice asked from behind. "If they are to be _removed_, should not the decision to do so be taken by the _Princess and Prince_ together? They must bear the consequences, not you or I."

Hans looked up then back at Ariel who returned his gaze, tears beginning to well from her eyes. The man nodded. "Aye. Y'er right."

"_Hans,_ are you sure about this?" Eric asked calmly from Ariel's side, still holding the girl to him.

Standing silently behind them, Østerby noted the moment of confusion among them. _"Damn that girl and her pathetic screaming and wailing." _he thought, _"But, I should have anticipated that."_ The Physician closed his eyes.

As Eric spoke Carlotta returned to the room bearing a silver tray with a bottle of cognac and several white linen handkerchiefs piled atop it.

"Aye Eric, sure as can be, though tha' one does look ta be close ta' the' vein." Then looking back to Ariel, he continued. "Ol' Hans'll take good care wi' him." He smiled. "Now don' ya' worry dear."

A soft breeze wafted into the room from the open balcony windows, catching Ariel's hair slightly and blowing it across her face. Eric reached out and gently pushed the red strands of hair back behind his little mermaid's left ear as she stilled herself and watched, her body still trembling.

_"Please take them off."_ she whispered, then stifling a mounting sob she continued, "Eric … _I'm scared_. _ I can't … I can't feel my neck."_

"That's it then. _Get them off of her_." Eric said.

"Well, if you are going to do this, let me help." Carlson requested. "I know someth …"

"Gentlemen … would you _please listen to me_?!" It was Østerby.


	8. Chapter 8 - Doctor's Orders

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 8 – Doctor's Orders**

**~ What Was Forgotten ~**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:30 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

At sea there are times when the water is so calm, so quiet, and so smooth that the ocean will lie about a ship like a looking glass as far as the eye can see. Then as the day wears on the surface of the deep will almost perfectly mirror the heavens above in its placid sheet, so much so that even the most seasoned of sailors can seldom discern where water ends, and sky begins. It is an otherworldly feeling to be amid such a moment, taken by the sense that you have trespassed into an entirely different realm unwed to that of normal human experience. One feels transported into the possibilities of other spaces and other times. Only the silhouette of a distant ship, hull-down with only masts and sails up might betray that otherwise hidden horizon. Vessels in such still waters are most often becalmed, for it is the very want of wind that gives rise to such tranquil seas, and being becalmed is always an unenviable state for a sailor to find himself in.

It is especially in such a quiet and wanting state that something wondrous can sometimes be seen in various parts of the great Ocean Sea that Men now call the Atlantic. In European and Antillean waters sometimes a daughter of the sea will note with wonder the passing of a great ship above, then finding herself filled with a buoyant curiosity be compelled to see what that floating silhouette portends. Off the bow, alongside the hull, or even sometimes astern a slender face will cautiously rise, often with the loveliest pair of eyes and most glorious mane of hair a man might ever see as the curious mermaid investigates this floating enigma.

But shipmen are a keen folk, and a good Master always keeps a sharp lookout, so that as soon as such a maiden might rise she would surely be seen. The alert watchman posted to that quarter will exclaim at what his eyes beheld, and being so seen, the mermaid must then dive back below to safety; for they are shy creatures, the ones that do _not_ hunt Men. In her passing she might leave behind a last reminder of her presence, the rise and fall of her lovely iridescent tail and delicate flukes, sometimes accompanied by a gentle crack as they slap the surface and she slips below.

The flick of a mermaid's tale can be a beautiful thing when the sun is drawn low as in early morning or evening. It can also be devastating to those who do not know to expect it. Though not nearly as strong as that of her male counterpart, a mermaid's tail is a still wondrous creation, soft and supple at times when she is relaxed, but firm and taut with muscular power when she is wroth or in need of haste. By striking the nose, such a flick, now much more than a powerful snap, is usually sufficient to stun a shark long enough for the mermaid to make good her escape; for against the native beasts of the sea, speed is seldom the ally of the Merfolk, who though swift must also swim with their heads up in order to avoid striking themselves unconscious or to death.

While Doctor Nils Østerby was certainly confident now of Ariel's aquatic origins and nature, he had only one past experience with a mermaid. That the young woman now lying quietly beneath him might have retained some of her natural defensive instincts went entirely unconsidered. As most men are ought to be, he was instead fixated upon and blinded to such possibilities by the maiden's beauty and charm as well as a strange attraction that rose within him for her, if one could _decently_ call it that. Believing that she had finally overcome her earlier fear, he thought nothing of applying the leeches to her lovely neck.

_"Not delicate … indeed."_ he thought and laughed silently.

No, his soothing voice had bewitched the girl, and if need be he could do much, much more to _master_ her, to keep her as calm as midnight. But such an expenditure of power seemed hardly necessary as she lay placidly beneath him, her eyelids twitching and her lower lip trembling slightly as his pets crept across her neck to find good places to feed upon her.

He could see the girl react to the coolness of the first four as they touched her pale skin; it was obvious that she didn't like the sensation. He watched as the first leech found its place and anchored itself, then the second, then the others. All four then began to throb and undulate with the same sanguine rhythm that betrayed their feasting upon the girl's priceless blood.

He would need more than four to obtain the quantity of her blood sure to be sufficient for his purposes, given what limited time he sensed he still had left to his task. So, back into the jar he reached, drawing forth fully half a dozen more of the ravenous squirming creatures. Turning back to his tranquil princess he was about to place this next six upon her breast and neck when the girl unexpectedly opened her beautiful blue eyes. A soft sound half a whimper, half a frightened breath broke her previous silence.

Ariel immediately fixated upon the writhing mass held before her within the tongs, hideous black and brown things obviously and imminently destined for _her_ body. Realizing now what had been placed upon her, or at least thinking that she did, the mermaid's eyes shot open and a terrified scream erupted from her, her arms flailing and pressing her body away from the things now dangling before her. Half sitting Ariel slammed backwards against her bed's headboard, drawing her lovely legs into what seemed a fetal position against her vulnerable torso as all rational thought fled her mind. Her face contorted into a mask of deep and visceral terror, mindless panic is all that she knew.

_"Ui! … Ui! … Ván!" _she cried as she threw her hands up to her neck and face.

In that instant, for only an instant it took, had Østerby been more knowledgeable of her kind he would have known that this was far from a passive and defenseless pose. He could be forgiven his mistake, for her eyes were now closed and her arms drawn across her breast, neck and face as though she could not bear to see what now assailed her, but he learned suddenly enough as the maiden's lovely slender legs snapped out together in a sinuous motion as graceful as it was violent.

The girl's bare plunging feet caught the tongs and jar, sending both them and their writhing contents flying through the air. The jar careened straight across the room, shattering and spilling out upon the floor beneath the far wall. The tongs flew straight into Østerby's face, smashing him across the left eye while their squirming passengers plummeted straight onto the Princess's bed. Had his handsome face been perhaps an inch lower, her powerful kick would surely have caught his head and snapped his neck.

To Ariel in her panic the movement felt strange, for she had snapped her tail thus many times before, almost always involuntarily, even as she did now. In this instance though, she felt strangely weak and disjointed as her new feet and legs were unaccustomed and unsuited to such a joined movement. They spread out as they thrust downward, something her tail and fins would and could have never done. This surprised her and threw her off balance, making her recoil even more in terror as she unthinkingly drew her legs back in, for in that moment she had forgotten … that she was now human.

Nils Østerby was truly stunned, not just startled by this unexpected turn of events, for the girl was now screaming through her tears words he had only heard once before, as she drew herself quickly to the far corner of the bed and away from him. There, she collapsed into a sobbing little ball, and continued to cry out in her strange but beautiful language as her hands darted to her slender neck. That could not be allowed.

For a moment the Physician felt a strange sense of compassion for this young woman, and almost regretted what he must next do. Regaining his customary calm, the Doctor took his footstool and stepped around the corner of the bed to the weeping girl, his heart now actually hurting to see her reduced to such a poor state. Still, such a state _would_ leave her especially _pliant_. There could be no doubt now that she was what he had suspected, for no _mortal_ tongue was so lovely, and many of the same words, well … he had heard them before, hadn't he?

Setting the stool upon the floor, he sat before the young princess and gently seized her slender arms, pulling them away from her neck. She struggled immediately, her eyes flying open as she tried to free them from Østerby's grip. Beneath her, she found her legs now tucked elegantly away in such a manner as to preclude her kicking again. It was then that she heard the man's words, slicing through her panic, and found her wild eyes drawn into his.

_"Be silent my child. Be calm."_ she heard ring in her mind, echoing endlessly. _"All … is well."_

One last time she strained to break her hands free, a mixture of hopeless sobs and desperate cries that fell incoherently from her soft red lips. _Ui! … Ui! … Áva caaarë!" _she screamed.

Once again, Østerby spoke, holding her eyes firmly with his. _"There is no need to fear. Be calm."_

Ariel felt his soft words ringing in her mind like a command, echoing endlessly. _"All … is well." _she heard, over and over again. Desperately she wanted to believe the man, even though she knew she mustn't, for all was _not _well. Why was he _doing_ this to her? Why was Carlotta just … _standing there_?

And then she felt it, as through her very mind had been seized and held between two mighty hands. Every moment she resisted the pressure increased. There was pain too, irresistible pain, like that of the splitting headaches she sometimes now had. Ariel felt her will collapsing, her body giving in as the world once again went black around her, the abyss reaching out to swallow her. In her last desperate, defiant act, the former mermaid threw back her head and screamed a single word. It was a name.

**_"... Aiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiic!"_**

With this done, she slumped helplessly against Østerby, her head lolling as her overwrought mind lost all awareness and her willowy muscles all tone. The Physician heard the baying of a hound growing closer, and reasoned that it must be the Prince's dog. Prince Eric would no doubt be not far behind, but the boy alone hardly worried him, not now that he had actually _met_ the young prince.

He bent his mind upon the dog as it came bounding into the room. Surprisingly, the foolish animal fought Østerby's assault for a few moments before he crushed its will and sent it slinking away and whining in fear into the corners where it could do no harm.

Gently then, the Doctor pressed the girl back by her forearms until she was once again upright, her back resting against her headboard and her head nodding, then smiled at her, his beautiful unwitting prize. All the exertions he had gone to arrange this moment would have proven worth it, if only he could leave with her blood. He would return for the girl herself later as necessary.

Hearing a noise at the door, Østerby looked left with a calm smile expecting to see the Prince standing there before him, his eyes full of questions, only to be greeted instead by the blurred shape of the young man flying at him through mid-air. His smile transformed instantly into a look of alarm. He would have flinched had he the time. Instead, Eric's nearly two hundred pounds of solid muscle and bone slammed into him, the young man's face contorted into a mask of rage. Pain exploded through Østerby's upper chest as he realized that had failed to anticipate _this_, and wondered if he had underestimated the callow Prince.

A sudden brush of air and sense of motion caught Ariel up from her swoon and she snapped her head up and back. Something soft in her neck screamed sharply as she cried out in a mix of surprise, fear, and pain. Recoiling back into her headboard, she threw her arms upward to shield herself. Still dazed, Ariel turned her head toward the furious motion beneath her and to her left and was shocked to find two human males fighting there.

The humans were yelling amongst one another, but she didn't care, and hardly noticed when she found a woman there beside her, a woman that she knew … a human woman.

In a single motion, the larger of the two men effortlessly flung the other halfway across her room and well away from where she lay, then just as quickly launched himself through the air after him. He fell heavily upon the smaller man, the same one who had hurt her. Two other men were instantly there, holding the smaller man down, then drawing him up to his … feet?

Ariel wondered how she could know a human woman, one who was saying words the mermaid couldn't understand, human words … Inwilya words. _"Why are these humans doing this to me … why?"_ Her mind screamed.

_"Doing … what?"_ she asked herself.

Suddenly remembering that there were Sarnalavir on her body, Ariel desperately clasped at her neck, feeling at once their soft and writing masses with her sensitive fingers, she began to whimper and cry once again.

She was being eaten alive. All that she could think of now was pulling the Nertehendi from her throat before they could burrow deeper into her. How many _were_ there? By now her cries had nearly become screams once again.

Then the human woman seized her arms, and Ariel lost all composure, not that she had much left at that point. The woman began to yell at her, but Ariel couldn't understand … could she? Something though seemed … _familiar _… about this woman's words.

"No! No! Let me go! Let me go!" She screamed pathetically, feeling as though she would collapse again at any second. She was being eaten alive, and she couldn't even feel it. What more horrific fate could there be for a mermaid?

Only a final cry escaped her mouth, a cry for the one name she trusted above all others, but in that awful moment she could not remember who that name … actually belonged to.

_" … Eeriiic!" _she screamed hopelessly as despair one again crashed in upon her and she broke down into wave after wave of terrified sobs.

Then there was a change. She felt the grip upon her wrists relax as a larger, warmer set of hands gently clasped her wrists. Though Ariel tried still to pull away, she felt a familiar kindness and reassurance in that touch that caused her fears to lessen … if not to abate entirely. She knew that touch, she knew the voice that she heard speaking to her now, but she couldn't understand the words, _his_ words …

But ... she _could_.

"Ariel, it's me … _Eric_. I'm right here, love."

_"Eric!" _something in her heart leaped with hope, even as a terrible fatigue came flooding in upon her, an emotional weariness that would have turned to hopelessness had his voice not been the one speaking to her. _She would be safe with him, he would make her safe, wouldn't he?_

"I know you're scared but you're alright, you're not hurt. Can you understand me?"

_"She was … unhurt? But … but the Sarnalavir!"_ she protested with her eyes, looking up now at the man, a man she instantly recognized as the very one who had just weeks ago asked her to _wed_ him, to pledge her _life_ to him, the human man she loved more than anyone or anything else in the sea … or on the earth.

_"Let me go…"_ she pleaded _"Eric … Let me go!"_ but still, he seemed not to understand.

"Ariel, _English_ … in _English_, I can't understand you. Can you speak _English_ to me?" the man replied.

"Yes … I can speak English." she said brokenly between sniffs, tears now running freely down her red cheeks, but he still looked at her as though he didn't understand.

Then she remembered, yes … Inwilya, the Faërya tongue … Archimedes' lessons … her human books.

Eric did not understand the speech of the sea, the Eärya, she remembered, but she _could_ speak Inglish, _did_ speak English. She _loved_ her human tongue that she had struggled so hard to master.

Ariel sought to gather her thoughts, to remember … _how_ to speak. Slowly, the words came to her, then the order in which they should go … how they should be said. As her daze lifted, she at last spoke back to her love.

"Why … why will you not … _let me go_?" she pleaded. A shortness of breath took her and she struggled to breathe. She needed to sleep so badly.

* * *

Østerby was surprised, but nevertheless listened quietly to the ensuing conversations.

Had any of them been at all wise, they would have _never_ let _him_ hear the girl's beautiful words in her watery tongue, nor this Lord Grimsby's apparent comprehension of them. What did this man _know_ that he did not?

Nils learned so very much in just that short exchange, not the least of which was that the old sailor was a nuisance, and the Captain … was a _threat_.

* * *

Finally, having listened and watched as the men prepared to remove the leeches from the Princess, Østerby felt a growing concern for his chances of obtaining the girl's blood.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen … _Princess_." the Physician continued, his voice … strange. "Please, everyone, _listen to me_.

Eric and the others, Carlson especially, turned damning eyes to the physician, still held fast on the east side of the bedchamber by Private Lund. But the calm that prevailed had cooled their hot and anxious tempers from earlier and each of the men found himself strangely inclined … to _listen_.

Even as they did so, an unnatural and inexplicable silence seemed to descend upon the room such that even the light sea breeze was itself stilled. It was Østerby that they next heard.

"If you merely wait for a few minutes and leave them, you shall see that they shall fall off of their own accord, their task _complete_." Then the Physician paused and smiled gently at the Princess.

Ariel raised her exhausted eyes to the sound of Østerby's liquid voice and returned his gaze. Her eyes widened and her body relaxed, just as it had when he had examined her limbs before; this despite her fear and sense that something was horribly … wrong.

_"Good,"_ the man thought. _"I still have her." _

Eric held Ariel's hands still in his own. An outrage at Østerby's voice, that the Physician dared to even speak to his Ariel when the man had frightened her so terribly, was growing within the Prince. But he found that he had no reason to fear because as long as he held his little mermaid, no one could bring her to harm.

_"Why are we entertaining this charlatan?"_ Carlson thought to himself through a growing awareness of the strange daze that seemed to grip everyone in the room, himself included.

Nils continued, his voice spilling out from his mouth as smooth and sweet as summer honey. "Princess, as I was trying to explain to you when the Prince … interrupted me, the little creatures are actually quite … _harmless_." The physician continued to smile as Ariel looked on, her eyes caught up in his own.

"But … they _hurt_ me." the girl protested softly, her voice faltering at the end.

Hans watched as Ariel spoke, hearing her words and wanting to rid the girl of the creatures of which she was so obviously terrified. But he found himself unable to speak, unable to remember what he was even thinking, seeing only from moment to moment. It all seemed like a strange dream passing him by.

Østerby was surprised at the girl's resistance, for every other young woman upon whom he had so bent his mind had succumbed completely to his will by this point. Yet this one still fought, albeit weakly now.

"No Princess, they have done you no harm." Østerby replied, his voice calm and reassuring as he looked deeply into the Princess's lovely eyes, holding her with his gaze even as the others struggled against his domination. Holding so many strong minds at once in his thrall, forcing them to accept his "benevolence" … was taxing him.

"But … I can't feel my neck." she said in a halting and quiet voice as she looked back at the man, the picture of loveliness in her innocent yet dazed defiance as she sat elegantly and placidly upon her bed.

Carlson's hand now inched downward toward the hilt of his sword. He felt the forgetfulness rising like a wave around him ready to drown his very awareness of what he was witnessing. He focused on Ariel's words, her distress, and the obvious danger that this strange man presented … and he _fought_.

Østerby took note and resolved to deal with the man as soon as he _broke_ the Princess, for if he didn't this obdurate Captain would soon _free_ himself. Then there would be _blood spilled_, and that was something that the Physician did not want, not yet at least; especially if it were _his own blood_.

As he beheld the young woman, Nils could not help but marvel at the fair beauty of her face and form, the lovely curves of her young and ripe body, the luxuriant softness of her long fiery red hair, her unusual and intense … newness. Only her eyes were wrong, for they were a beautiful deep and striking blue instead of the fabled green that he sought … that he needed … that was _demanded_. Perhaps though, given her otherworldly origins, she too might _suffice_ to their ends. Only the coming weeks would tell, but at the very least, she would prove a most potent _offering_.

Feeling her continued resistance, Østerby bent his will heavily upon her now, so hard that had he grasped one of her slender arms instead he would have surely snapped it like a twig, for the Physician was tired of trifling with this spoiled and willful little princess, and her refusal … to comply.

Like nothing she had ever before this day experienced the man again invaded and violated Ariel's mind.

He was curious as to the source of her strength, as to _who_ she really was, such that like no other young woman she had been able to resist him so when he insisted that she _ignore the truth_. And then he saw, saw the wonders of her home, a home not so far from where he now stood.

_"Who could have known?"_ he marveled, eager to learn more. Still … she was _resisting_.

To her cherished memories he went then, to the very source of her strength, and he saw there her many "adventures."

He saw her father, her family, her friends, her people indeed not altogether unlike mankind save for their pacific gentleness, though he also sensed there to be more that perhaps _she_ did not know. He thought the resemblance … _suspicious_. Every single memory he examined in detail as he held the girl there fast before him, her eyes struggling as she resisted what was being done to her. He was quick in doing so, so great was the power which he now exercised over her.

It did not take him long though to find the weaknesses in her defenses. These came in the form of her fears, her doubts, her mistakes, her many bad decisions … her regrets. These she kept bottled up deep inside herself, hoping to never have to again confront them. Even from the night that brought her and this prince together she had many regrets over which she still agonized.

Like sharp daggers they were, so he reached for them, these little knives, and gingerly thrust them into each and every one of her fondest memories, one by one shattering her joy in them, in herself, in her hopes for happiness and family … and brought her whole precious world crashing down upon her.

Ariel gasped slightly and shuddered as her eyes widened even more, feeling as though a great weight had borne down upon her mind. Her mouth opened slightly as she fought the man's eyes, then at last succumbed to them … as tears ran silently from her own.

Østerby smiled.

"Not to worry my dear, they remove the discomfort of their own bite. Is that not _kind _of them?" he replied as he smiled reassuringly at the girl."

Nils stepped towards the Princess, away from Lund now whose formerly strong grip relaxed such that his arms fell to his sides.

Jens wondered why he had _done that_, why he had _let the man go_. On reflection the Doctor seemed to be no threat at all, indeed he was helping the Princess who sat now like a lovely dream upon the bed before him. Thus Jens allowed the man to go to her, that he might aid the young beauty.

Carlson's right hand had reached the pommel of his sword at his left, just as the Physician reached_ his_ left side, and standing there, spoke to him.

"I can see that you do not yet _trust me_ Captain and that, is a _problem_. Can you not see that I intend _your_ _Princess_ no harm? Let me go to her aid." he offered, but divined in return only the officer's' unyielding determination to break the grip held upon him. If this continued, the Doctor would be forced to _kill_ him.

"I promise you … _her safety_. Is that not what you _desire_?" he added. With this the Doctor redoubled his effort, momentarily pouring the full weight of his power out upon Carlson. He smiled as a mighty swell of the river Lethe rose about the Captain and his resistance finally and fully collapsed. The officer's face went blank as his hand relaxed and fell back to his side.

"_Good_. Thank you Captain. I can see that I have your _trust_ now." Østerby smiled and stepped by him.

"Pardon me Mistress Grimaldi. Might I pass?" Østerby asked in his finest and most gentlemanly voice.

As Østerby approached, Carlotta stepped silently back to make way for him, being glad now that such an erudite and well-mannered Physician would be caring for her panicked little Ariel.

His last real obstacle to the Princess was the old sailor. Coming just behind the man, Nils spoke.

"Forgive me _Master Hans_, is that not your name? Will you please allow me to tend _your_ young lady?" Østerby said. "I should think that the leeches have almost finished by now."

Hans remained seated, his eyes and will focused on the young woman before him, but he found himself unable to move his hands, or even remember how he had _come_ to this moment.

"Can you imagine how _happy and relieved_ the _Princess_ shall be when I _remove_ them?" Østerby added, feeling the old man's determination.

Stiffly, the old man nodded and stood, and with a gentle prompting, stepped back from the chair to behind the Prince. His eyes remained fixed on the Princess who now sat utterly motionless as she was held by Østerby's hypnotic gaze.

"Do you … _trust me_ dear?" the Doctor asked, fully aware of the recent meaning _those two words_ held, never letting the gentle smile fade from his mouth as he spoke.

Ariel blinked but remained transfixed … then nodded slowly. _"Yes."_ She said softly.

Eric too now was feeling that something was wrong, very wrong, as though the whole of the world were somehow spinning about him while all remained perfectly still. He could not remember how he had come to be here, seated and holding his love's hands in his own, but Østerby's words echoed in the distance, a voice of perfect reason. Eric saw Ariel calmly nod then, her fears having fled, and he breathed a sigh of relief, for his love was safe and that was all that mattered.

Yet something … _gnawed_ at him.

"Good my dear." Østerby continued. "For they are simple medicinal leeches, not _lampreys_ or whatever _fearsome_ things you seemed to think they were, and they are making you _better_, pulling _harmful_ humors from your body even as we speak."

The doctor smiled softly at the girl. "In your case those humors are suffused throughout the very excess _blood_ that was causing such swelling of your extremities. Edema … _do you not remember_?" he paused, smiling gently at Ariel as he sat slowly upon the bed beside her. Though he wished to, Nils dared not take the girls hands from the Prince. _No_. His intuition told him that he would lose them both then if he did so.

The girl nodded, her mind subdued now and under the man's complete control.

Eric looked over at Østerby as the Doctor sat at Ariel's feet … on _her bed_. He felt his muscles tense slightly, though he was certain that the man meant his love no harm. Yet something raged within him, something that discerned how wrong this all was. If only … he could _remember_.

"You see _my Prince_? _Your _young Princess is just fine, and fearful no longer."

Østerby now focused his inner sight once again upon the girl, this pretty little mermaid who had somehow found her way onto dry land. In that moment of quiet he looked again into a world beyond most humans' experience … but not beyond _his_. No, _he_ had done _this_ before. There, as he casually sifted through the girl's memories of her former life, Nils found much that _pleased_ him … much that could be of _use_ … and one thing in particular of _great worth_. His persistence and determination … **_had been rewarded_**.

"Captain, Master Sael. Did you wish to assist her? You had been prepared to remove my little friends from her, had you not?" Then, turning to Carlson, "Captain, you can _help her_, is that not what you _most_ _desire_?"

The strange calm held the world in its grip as both Hans and Derek struggled against the wrongness, the absence of mind that now enveloped them. They felt the presence of this man's alien thoughts within their own. No experience however had ever prepared either for that power that now held them fast.

Eric, on the other hand, had indeed fought something very much like this before, _and lost_, his mind being trapped in a dream-like stupor while he acted passively in accordance with _another's_ will. The rest of him, however, refused to relent. He had lost, but _learned_, and this was not the alien thing which had before gripped him, but the mind of a _man_. Instead of allowing himself to be broken, he let his mind _bend_, and thus kept it, retaining in a small part of his consciousness an awareness of what was happening. He did not struggle any further, for as long as he held Ariel's hands in his, Eric knew that she was safe from harm. If this man did anything to threaten her, then he would act, or so Eric told himself.

At Østerby's words, Carlson felt his care for Ariel swell in his breast. He ached at how she had previously cried out, how she had begged for release from the creatures that had terrified her, that were still feeding upon her. If he did not act, she or another might remove them in the wrong way, such that they vomited the contents of their gut back into the wounds from which they had partaken of her. Then the corruption would set in and she would die. He had seen it before, and he would not allow that to happen, so forward he stepped.

Østerby stepped back, smiling. "Yes Captain, that's right. You want to _help_ her, do you not? Oh, I can _feel_ it, how you wish to be _closer_ to her, how you wish her _favor_, how you wish to the _hero_ for her. Verily, your sentiment is simply delicious in its _insipidity_. Well … _here's_ your chance, _paladin_, perhaps your one and only given that she is your Prince's and none other's." he said mockingly.

"You saw how _afraid_ she was, did you not? So … go to her, comfort her ... _saaave her_." For the third time since he came, Østerby laughed, and his laughter though soft … was _not _kind.

And Derek did, he went to her, his deep concern and _love_ for the young woman before him combining to overwhelm his sense of the utter wrongness of what was now happening. His only thoughts were of her, memories that faltered before they could even be made.

"Master Sael, you can assist now in what _you began_, is that not what _you_ desire?" Østerby stepped back.

Hans nodded and stepped forward, kneeling down beside Carlson.

Though having completely submitted to Østerby's will, Ariel nevertheless felt a tremendous sense of relief as the man withdrew from her, but the human's mind remained intertwined with her own and would not let go. Deep within she wanted to scream.

Eric felt a great relief in his heart as the strange Physician stepped away from the woman he loved more than anything else in the world. She was safe with Derek and Hans, and the farther Østerby was from her, the better. Like a man imprisoned, Eric's mind sought release from the false dream within which the Doctor's eldritch will had ensnared him.

Carlson and Hans knelt before the still maiden, whose only discernible movements were her breathing and the intermittent and unusually slow blinking of her eyes.

Opening the bottle of cognac that now sat on her nightstand, Hans took a linen handkerchief from the tray and wetted it. As he did so one of the leeches shuddered and fell almost in perfect timing with his motion. Catching the leech as it fell, Hans put the napkin to Ariel's delicate neck as blood began to run from her wound.

A porcelain vessel was offered to him, into which he compliantly deposited the leech. Silently, he placed another napkin upon the young woman's wound, for her blood was already staining the first a bright red.

Ariel felt something warm trickle down her neck before Hans caught it in a cloth. Yet she could not feel her neck itself. She knew it for what it was, her own blood, and that realization caused an old fear to rise within her. She shuddered and a soft cry escaped her slightly parted lips, little more than a panicked breath verging on a whimper.

Pouring some of the liquid into the deep portion of the tray, Carlson rinsed his fingers in it, then prepared a handkerchief as Sael had before. Hearing her quiet distress, Carlson gently extended his right hand to Ariel's slender neck. He placed his finger under the feeding end of one of the leeches, being careful not to touch its body, and broke its suction, following suit with its engorged anchoring end.

Ariel felt a slight sensation against her neck, her neck which seemed almost numb. For the first time, her eyes moved until they met Carlson's. Somehow, he managed to smile at her which she found strangely comforting. It occurred to her that it was not the first time that she had seen him smile. But when had that other time, those other times, been? Today since he came to her aid, his only expression had been one of grim determination and even anger. She had only spoken to him before in passing, almost always in Eric's company, and while he had always been polite and even kind to her, he had never smiled at her so warmly.

The leech writhed in his left hand and began to bite before Derek managed to drop it into the vessel that Østerby had prepared, and now offered. Apparently it little liked the stout cognac that still dripped from his hand and fingers. Likewise the other two creatures followed, and as before after each the men carefully caught the Princess's blood and cleaned her wounds. Save for a slight movement of her lovely eyes, the Princess remained as motionless as before.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it my _dear_?" Østerby asked in a kindly voice that was anything but.

"Now, if you'll forgive me my dear Princess, my good Prince, I shall be going. It pleases me so to have finally met you, given my weeks of yearning to see this young lady who has so stirred my imagination. She is quite remarkable, and I do hope that we shall _meet again_."

Stepping forward, Østerby considered daring to kiss the maiden's hand as a promise of future attentions, but his wisdom and intuition prevailed. Surely, that would rouse the Prince against him again, if not all of the three men in whose quiet midst he stood, not a wise thing now that he had tired so in mind from the great exertion he had made upon them.

Gathering his things into his satchel, Nils calmly continued.

"Of course, none of you will remember any of this, only that there was a misunderstanding between our frightened Princess and her well-meaning Physician, and that after calmly and rationally examining the situation the Prince kindly dismissed him. Thereafter the _valiant_ Captain and our sailor friend here came to her aid and rid her of the creatures. And such a _brave_ young lady she was, especially in the face of such _frightening _circumstances. Yes … _very_ brave."

He stood then, and stepped over to the Housekeeper, taking her hand. "My dear Mistress Grimaldi. I cannot express my delight sufficiently at the good order and beauty with which you keep household and for the unfailing care that you have given the Prince and our new Princess. But let me also say that you yourself are quite _charming_ and I should hope that we might _meet again_ … under far more pleasant circumstances." With that, he lifted Carlotta's hand, and kissed it. The Physician took his time before he gently returned that slender hand to her side, smiling at her seductively all the while.

Stepping back, Østerby took his hat and stepped over to the doorway and young soldier who had brought him there.

"My Prince, I must depart at your request in order not to further disturb the _Princess_. I beg your pardon for the unfortunate turn of events, given her justifiable fears, and hope that you shall continue to _retain my services_. Thank you for having this young man _escort me_."

"Good day my Prince … Princess Ariel." Then turning to the motionless Aubrey Beauclerk, he added "milord."

With a flourish of his hat and a bow Østerby departed the room with his escort and passed the motionless Private Thomsen outside, leaving in the room behind him six dreaming people.

Quiet ensued.

Lying hidden beneath a rich plush chair in the far eastern corner of the room, a terrified Max shivered … and whined.


	9. Chapter 7a - In Shining Armor

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 7a – In Shining Armor**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:10 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

In the skies far above the island of Sankt Croix a single wisp of moisture dared to coalesce where warm air rising from the land met the cool breeze blowing from the sea. There were others of course, fair little tendrils of vapor innumerable and infinitesimal that formed and just as quickly dissolved amid the harsh rays of the marred sun. Yet this one little wisp persisted and reaching upward, even flourished, until at last spreading its wings, it was reborn a cloud. For a while its slight shade offered just a little relief to the dry earth below as the cloudlet for a while withstood the onslaught of the mighty eye of day, rolling and rising in exuberant joyful coils of pale cool mist. But then the breeze from the sea slowly slackened and dwindled, until at last it failed. The little cloudlet, no longer then being cooled by the sweet breath of the sea, faltered then, as the fires of midday bore down upon its gossamer substance. At first its fine eddies and currents became confused and then lost their ways. The little cloudlet itself then began to diffuse, to fall apart, to dissolve. Eventually, each little remnant of its former hope for existence wasted into a fading haze of vaguest white, like foam washed wide upon the surface of the raging sea. Then that too was gone, and nothing remained, only the clear and empty sky.

Far below on the eastern side of Christiansborg Palace the sailors of _Lyn_, longshoremen, and hired workmen labored at a new construction. It was to be a makeshift pavilion to protect those there against the harsh sun above. Sailors sat aloft on the upright spars that lined the pier, pulling lines taut and spreading great sheets of canvas across the gap that separated the two sides. Slowly, shade spread across the dock that lay beneath the eastern side of the quay. Excess sailcloth was draped downward along the sides and fastened with lashings as a guard against what would later become a westering sun.

The architect of that pavilion was no longer there with his men. Instead, shortly after sharing his plan with the newly returned Captain Larson and giving his fellow ship's mates instructions, Hans Rubert Sael had hastened with the Captain of the Guard through the Eastern Arch.

Hans had never before passed through those doors, for they represented a part of young Eric's life of which Sael had never been a part, and would never _be_ a part; for it was the life not of a sailor, but of a prince.

"This way Master Sael." Captain Carlson said, looking over his shoulder as he sheathed his sword.

As Carlson walked slightly before him leading the way, Hans dared to look up.

A great vaulted ceiling greeted his eyes, one that must be thirty or more feet in height. Thick pillars of polished golden marble rose at intervals along its length to hold the mighty vaults suspended above. On the far eastern side of the hall a scant few sunbeams fell though high arched windows, angling down in slender strands that betrayed the sun's approach to its zenith. Dust motes floated in that light, each now glowing like a bright and glorious star as it drifted along upon unseen currents of air.

"Ne'er seen any o' _this _afore." Hans said to himself with reverence as he quietly folded his hat and slipped it into the back of his waistband. "Where we goin', Captain'?"

"This Princess' chambers in the Guest Wing above." He replied with some urgency. "Mistress Grimaldi has her quartered on the third floor. It's something of a climb, but it places the young lady high enough that it would be difficult for anyone or anything fell to reach her before my men put an end to the threat."

_"Anything?"_ Hans thought to himself, wondering what the Captain had meant by that. It wasn't as though there were any wolves or any such animals on the isle that might threaten her. _"What worried the man?" _he asked himself, and then determined he would find out.

Carlson's boot steps echoed softly through the hall as the two crossed its length.

Looking down at the floor, Hans noted it was of a polished marble, dark black laced with veins of white while subtle tinges of pale reds and golds could be discerned in its sunlit provinces near the eastern wall. The western wall stood mostly in deep shadow, but the old man could still discern the outlines of great portraits, mirrors and statuary recessed in alcoves too deep and too dim for his old eyes to penetrate.

Down the great length of the chamber ran a carpet of rich Tyrian purple, and at its north end lay a dais.

Upon that dais there sat a chair like a throne, but it was not a throne. It was the Seat of Power of the Isles, the whole of the Danish West Indies, the Jomfruøerne, Prince Christian's personal appanage and the demesne over which his rule as _Prince Eric_ was absolute, at least in theory. Yet the chamber stood disused, as it nearly always had.

Carlson and Sael approached the dais, taking it to their right and immersing themselves in shadow

"So, if ya don't mind me askin', wha' is she _like_?" Hans asked.

"We shouldn't be speaking in here, Master Sael." There was a curtness in the Captain's voice, but also, a pause at the end, pregnant with some meaning Hans could not quite discern.

"Ahh, I see. Sorry abo' tha'. Didn't mean nothin' by it." Hans replied quietly

"The Princess you mean?" the Captain continued, surprising Hans, for they were still quite a distance from the northern doors. "Why would you ask _me _Master Sael? You saw her for yourself this morning, even held her in your arms. You should know better than I, shouldn't you?"

_"A curious tone in the young fellow's voice, almost … envious?"_ Hans thought. "Just curious Captain, seein' as ya' been aroun' 'er since she first came and' all."

"After all 'tis no' e'ery day a fellow gets ta' hold a real _princess_ right in his arms, an' such pretty lil' thing too." The old sailor continued, smiling gleefully like a benevolent grandfather looking upon the newest addition to his family for the very first time. "Reminds me o' my own lil' girl, the Good Lord rest her soul."

The Captain went silent after that, but as they approached the arch guarding the northern entrance to the chamber, Carlson continued, though in a quiet voice, a voice filled with a surprising and sad tenderness. "She's very innocent as one might expect given her young age … and very kind, almost as though she's but a common girl with no pretentions at all to rank, to status. A bit _willful _though at times." He paused then and smiled softly to himself as though relieving some fond memory. "Well … more than a _bit_."

This whole conversation was turning into something of a delight for Hans, given that he had never spoken at such length to the Captain before, and he was learning quite a bit in doing so. As he listened though, Sael was quick to note the nuances of the man's speech and his accent, which weren't like those of most Danes of the Isles. They seemed more, American … perhaps British. Even when he had spoken Danish there was more than something of the trace of an accent.

Coming to the door, Carlson reached down to its handle, then looked back at Hans, smiling at the sailor now. "She's also quick-minded and amazingly curious … like no one else I've ever met."

_"Ah,"_ Hans thought. _"So it comes out then. Not only has the Captain met the young Lady, he fancies her. Now, tha' coul' be a bit o' a problem, especially since the lad seems to know a bit more than he's telling. But, what's the story there?"_ the old man wondered, and of course decided to find out.

Carlson paused, staring back at the now grinning Sael. "You know, I think we've spoken about this before haven't we, a few weeks back? If I recall I said much the same thing then, though I shouldn't have, just as I probably shouldn't be saying anything _now_."

"Beautiful too." Hans added, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head as he grasped the handle of the opposite door and pulled it open.

"What?" Carlson asked, looking over to the old man with a puzzled look on his face.

"I said she's _beautiful _too."

Carlson stepped back with Sael as the great twin doors swung inward towards them.

"Yes." Carlson said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. He seemed suddenly caught up in some thought as he looked down to the floor. "That she is." Then turning to Sael on his left smiled back. "In _many_ ways."

Shadows greeted them as the archway beyond was devoid of windows; only the light streaming through the windows in the far foyer filled their eyes. Carlson entered first, again taking the lead. It seemed to be a habit for the man, though Sael didn't resent it, having followed others and followed well most of his life … save at certain times. It was true that he could lead when the times demanded it, but this wasn't such a time, not yet at least.

"Captain, how is i' tha' ya know she's as ya' say?" Hans asked, pausing for a moment as he followed Carlson through the archway. "Come on now, tell good ol' Hans some more." the old man insisted.

"You ask a lot of questions don't you Master Sael?" Carlson asked, not even looking back. "Well, if you must know, I spar with Prince Eric every weekday morning now before he repairs to breakfast with the Princess, and his favorite subject for conversation … is _her_. Not that I blame him of course."

"So just tha' then, by wha' Eric say's o' her"?

"_Prince _Eric, and no … I have her watched."

"Watched! But why?!"

"Master Sael, are you at all familiar with what happened the night of the Prince's '_wedding'?_"

"Well, err, only from th' rumors an' such."

"Very well then. Hans, _something_ came for the _Princess_ that night, out of the sea, while she was on the wedding barge. I saw _it_."

On the far side of the arched hallway rose a flight of wide stairs on either side, and on the far side of those flights where the arch continued into the first floor of the guest tower could be seen two soldiers of the Guard.

"Something?" Hans asked, his smile fading "Wha'da ya' mean, something?'"

"A _horror_ Hans. Something devilish … _demonic_." Carlson said quietly, then continued "It was like nothing I have ever before seen." The Captain paused silently then. "By the time I had reached the Princess and the Prince it was too late; it had pulled her over the side."

"A horror, a _monster _ya' mean? So them rumors is true then? The Prince followed her o'er the side ta' save 'er?"

Carlson nodded solemnly, guilt now clouding his solemn expression.

"Wel'' yer awful quiet abou' it ain't ya?" Sael jabbed.

"Of course I am _quiet_ about it, she's the Prince's _fiancée_. It's not my place to speak about her no matter _how_ I feel."

"How _you_ feel?" Oh now! How's _that_ Captain?!" Hans said, smiling like the Old Nick himself, realizing he'd finally pried a plate loose from the Captain's armored heart. "And _fiancée_? Ya' that's th' word what' we all ha' been hearing but no one's a heard no' announcement, seen no banns."

"My understanding is that the Prince and Princess plighted their troth alone together some weeks ago, when exactly I don't know for certain Hans."

"And Hans, "Carlson looked back at Sael, then lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, about your daughter I mean."

Stepping into the foyer Hans smiled sadly. "Ah … Don' be sorry Captain, it helps old Hans to talk abou' my Elna when I ca' work 'er in edgewise. Keep's her and 'er mother alive in m' heart."

Carlson nodded solemnly. "Well, then I'll have to ask you to tell me more about them both, seeing as we seem to be working together for the time being." He stopped, looking to the guards who both looked to him as though awaiting his instruction, then turned his head slightly back to face Hans.

But Hans was ready for him. "Now, a getting' back ta' how ya' _feel _sir, how's _that_ Captain, now tha' we're _friends_ and all, you can tell us wha' be eatin' a' ya. Go on now, Ol' _Hans_ won' tell." The Seadog chattered on, grinning widely as he did so.

"Master Sael, is it possible that we might _change_ the subject? I'm rather starting to regret I didn't honor the _quiet_ of the Audience Hall."

The Captain turned to the closest sentry, and in a very different and commanding tone, though still barely a whisper, spoke to the man _"Private Bech, why are you and Private Brandt posted here?_"

"Sir, both the Prince and Lord Grimsby are in the Guest Library. The Prince arrived and joined His Lordship just a short while ago."

"Ah, I _see_. Very Good."

Carlson turned to Sael. "We're in luck. Follow my lead Master Sael."

_"Aye, aye, Captain."_ Hans whispered, thinking to himself that he hardly had an option, had he?

Carlson stood and listened at the open door for a few moments, waiting for a break in the conversation between Prince Eric and Lord Grimsby in the room beyond. Sael heard both of their voices clearly and recognized them from the many long years he had shared with Eric and the few voyages Lord Grimsby had made to accompany and advise the young Prince.

When their words ebbed, Carlson seized the opportunity and knocked firmly on the door. "Your highness."

Lord Grimsby, being the one of the two actually facing the door looked over to the two men standing beyond. "Ah Captain, yes, how may I help you? Is something the matter?"

Eric turned to look behind him, his eyes alighting on both Derek and Hans. The old man stood taller than he normally did and nearly straight, something Eric instantly recognized Sael did in only times of urgency owing to a back that ached with age and injury.

"Derek … Hans?" Eric asked "What is it?"

"Sire," Carlson began, addressing Eric first then nodding to Lord Grimsby "I'm afraid I have a matter of concern to bring to your attention. It concerns the Princess's welfare."

Eric immediately stood up straight from the wall and stared Carlson square in the eye, his attention now fully focused on the man's words.

"This is Master Hans Sael, I believe you are both old acquaintances, so if you will, I'll let him speak."

"Yes, of course, I know Hans well and wanted to speak with him, but Princess Ariel is safe upstairs in her chambers with Mistress Grimaldi and Doctor Østerby. I left her there just half an hour ago, and there are guards posted outside her room, as I'm sure you're well aware Captain."

"Tha' be just it Eric," Hans started informally, dispensing with the young man's title as he had for years at sea when he needed the boy to actually listen to him.

As the old man spoke, Carlson rolled his eyes and Grimsby put his forehead to his hand, shaking his head in dismay. Eric hardly seemed to notice, if he even noticed at all. "Yes, of course, go on Hans." he replied.

"This young Østerby fellow, he ain' like his father. E'er since he came and took o'er his father's practice, he been about his rounds to the ships in port and folk in town chargin' such fees, jus' like those other eight. I mean, like families and ships can afford so much, five and ten times as much as his before. An' o' them ones he _has_ treated …"

There was a whine at Eric's feet followed by a tenuous growl. Looking down Eric saw Max's ears perk as the dog bolted from where he lay around Eric's legs and through the doorway between Sael and Carlson. All eyes followed the sheephound as he disappeared around the corner, barking as he bounded up the stairs.

Carlson's head snapped back to Eric. The instant their eyes met, they both turned without a word and sprinted through the hallway, turning up the stairs of the north foyer with the Captain in the lead. Max's barking receded as the dog quickly outdistanced the two men. As they charged up the stairs, they could hear the screams of a young woman echoing through the shadowed stairwell above. By the time they had gained the second floor landing, the screams had given way to desperate words.

_"Ui! … Ui! … Ván!" _

The voice to whom those screams belonged though was unmistakable. It was Ariel's, and there could be no doubt that whatever assailed her, she was terrified.

_Ui! … Ui! … Áva caaarë!" _the girl screamed.

There was a loud crash followed by other panicked voices that grew louder with every stair that flew by underfoot. Now the sounds of a struggle could be heard just above as Eric strode up the stairs as quickly as his legs would allow. Then the sounds momentarily ceased as a pregnant silence filled the air, only to be split by a final blood-curdling scream.

**_"... Aiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiic!"_**

Wavering and desperate, the maiden's scream faltered … and was followed by dead silence.

Before the two men had reached the third floor landing Eric leapt ahead, vaulting up several stairs with each step. Carlson followed, but Sael and Grimsby lagged woefully far behind, the bitter regret of age hindering them both.

Finally Eric reached the upper landing, and by now his heart was pounding, horrific visions of what could possibly be happening to his little mermaid racing through his mind. Nothing he could think of made even remote sense. She was guarded in a safe place, under the care of both Carlotta and a gentleman Doctor. What could be _terrifying_ his love so?

Arriving at the landing, Eric found Private Thomsen standing there at the door, a look of confusion on his face as he looked from the bedchamber door to the prince. The soldier stood quickly to attention as Eric strode past him into the room beyond. Carlson followed immediately. What greeted the men was chaos.

Strewn about Ariel's bed and floor were various objects, some large, many small, none that the Prince recognized as he desperately sought his objective.

Carlotta stood motionless near the nightstand on the far side of the bed. Following her stare, Eric found his eyes drawn to the head of the bed itself. There, on the far side closest to the window lay Ariel, sitting upright against the headboard with her legs tucked elegantly beneath her, her toes and feet just barely showing from under the hem of her dress.

She was sobbing, her head nodding as though she was struggling to stay awake. Both of her slender arms were held out before her, each held fast in the firm grip of Doctor Østerby's two clenched hands. Beyond her troubling lack of alertness, the sight of Ariel being held by this man clearly against her will alarmed and angered Eric. While her cries had ceased, Eric sensed that something remained deeply amiss in the room.

**_"Østerby!"_**

The Physician turned to the Prince with a calm smile that instantly soured as he heard the anger in the young man's voice and saw the wrath in his eyes. It was not something he had been anticipating based on the young man's self-effacing manner from their earlier meeting. "Your highness …" he began.

**"No! **Eric demanded. He was in no mood for platitudes; he wanted _answers_ … and _quickly_. "**_What _were you _doing_ to her?!" **

Looking from Ariel then back to Østerby, the prince strode swiftly across the room towards the doctor and the far side of Ariel's bed. Rounding the foot of her bed he came face-to-face with the still-seated Physician. "Explain to me _right now_ why she was screaming as she was and why you are holding her!"

Østerby noted that the Prince's voice and demeanor were powerful and commanding, entirely unlike the guilt-ridden boy he had seen just a short while ago. It was actually slightly intimidating. Østerby looked from Eric and back to Ariel. "Your highness, if you'll just let me … "

"No. _Belay that."_ There was something the prince didn't like about how the Physician had been _looking_ at Ariel when he had reached the room. "Step away from her first." Eric commanded. "_Then_ explain."

Reluctantly Østerby complied, gently laying the girl's hands in her lap and patting them down gently as though to fix them there as her head nodded once again. Slowly, Ariel raised her head to the sound of Eric's voice. "Yes sire." he replied.

As soon as Østerby departed Ariel's side, Carlotta took his place. "Honey, are you _alright_?!" she cried as she sought a way to try to soothe the girl, but it wasn't working. Instantly the dazed young woman's hands flew to her neck, at which she started to probe and feel about with increasing desperation.

"Jens, Derek, hold him." Eric commanded. The Captain and Private Lund quickly seized the Doctor by his arms and legs. The man grimaced as his arms were pinned behind him.

Eric stared at the man, the look in his eyes so hot it could have melted iron. **_"Explain."_**

"Yes your highness," Østerby replied, putting his hand to his injured eye. "I was but rendering medical assistance to her. Please _listen_ to me. This is all a misunderstanding. The Princess is suffering from an acute but mild sanguinary edema and I was endeavoring to prevent its worsening. I promise you, I was doing _nothing_ to harm her."

Eric noted that the man's left eye was badly bruised and wondered what had caused it. Nevertheless he listened to Østerby and at his mention of Ariel turned quickly back to his young fiancée, concern filling his eyes. He saw immediately that she was very clearly beginning to panic, desperate whimpers fast growing into something increasingly more terrified. On her neck he saw several things, each brownish black and throbbing with its own merciless rhythm as it drew his love's lifeblood from her delicate throat.

Leeches.

"No! No! Hold her _hands_. Don't let her pull them off …! She'll **_bleed to death_** for sure! Do you want her to **_die_**?!" Østerby cried desperately.

Carlson stared at the man, his brow furrowing. "You _bled_ her when all she needed was water and rest! Where is the _sense_ in that Doctor!?" he said, bitterness seething in his words.

"And who are you and what are _your_ credentials may I ask?" Østerby shot back. "What know you of medicine that you question me? Those leeches are near her _jugular_. Believe me, I _know_ my _art_. If she rips them off she'll tear open her own neck, and on all of your heads will her blood be!"

Pausing for a moment, the Captain considered the physician's words. "Wait!" he cried, the blood draining from his face. "The Doctor may be right! Mistress Grimaldi, hold the Princess's hands, _quickly!_ Don't let her touch the leeches." He looked down at the Physician. "But it's not just their _teeth_ to be concerned about, right good Doctor?" he asked in an acid voice, as if trying to make some point to the man.

Distraught and confused, Carlotta took Ariel's hands into her own. For a moment Ariel pulled back and shrieked, flailing wildly with her arms until Carlotta at last caught a firm grip on the girl's tiny wrists. "Ariel … Ariel … no!" Carlotta cried desperately as she tried to calm the girl.

"Uiii! … Uiiii!" Ariel pleaded, her breath coming now in ragged fits, "Ani leryaaa! … Ani leryaaa_ … Aiiriiic!_" she finally cried as she broke down into a fit of helpless sobs.

"Carlotta, give her to me." Eric said softly, kneeling down with care next to the Housekeeper. Gently, he took the girls hands from Carlotta and kissed them as Ariel strained against him. "Ariel, it's me … _Eric_. I'm right here, love. I know you're scared but you're alright, you're not hurt. Can you understand me?"

At the sound of Eric's voice and the tenderness of his touch, Ariel calmed somewhat, but her chest still heaved as she struggled to breathe against her tears. "Ani lerya…" she pleaded. "Airic … Ani lerya."

"Ariel, _English_ … in _English_, I can't understand you. Can you speak _English_ to me?"

At this Ariel looked up with weary eyes that looked at Eric as though she had been utterly defeated, with eyes that pleaded with him to do … something … _anything_.

"Ná … istan quet Inwilya." she said brokenly between sniffs, tears now running freely down her cheeks.

There was a long pause.

"Why … why will you not … _let me go_?" the girl pleaded almost in a pained whisper, then gasped for air, her voice betraying her exhaustion, both of body and mind.

"Let you _go_?!" Eric cried softly in confusion. _"Never!" _Then he paused._ "_Do you mean your _hands_? But … why?"

Eric felt Ariel's arms tremble in his clenched fingers as she closed her tear-filled eyes.

"He put … he put …" she started but, but choked on her own breath as she tried to speak through her worsening sobs. Her slender chest and back began to heave as she gasped for breath.

At this, Eric had had enough. Taking her right arm, he placed her wrist in his left hand with the other and held them both gently … but fast. Then reaching around the young woman with his right arm, he pulled her into him and began to gently stroke the back of her neck, her hair, and then her back.

"It's alright love, you're unharmed and you're safe. Go on … tell me what happened."

Again she tried to speak. _ "He put … sarnalavir _on me, _Airic …_" she cried out pathetically, her eyes still closed.

The girl drew in a series of short gasps, and just as quickly sobbed them back out. "_Nertehendi … _to … to eat me from the inside."

Ariel paused as she struggled, trying to control her breathing. "Please ... don't let them …_ Airic_ … take them _off_ … _please ..._"

"Ariel, what are ne … nert …" Eric began to ask.

"Nine eyes." A voice said from behind them.

Carlson, Eric, everyone, even the still sobbing young woman looked back to the bedchamber door, and saw Hans Sael standing there. Beside him stood Aubrey Beauclerk.

"The word literally means 'nine eyes.'" Beauclerk repeated, saying the two words slowly. "But what _that_ means I have absolutely no idea."

Ariel looked now to Grimsby, her breathing and sobs easing now as a new curiosity momentarily drew her attention away from her discomfort and fear. _"How does he know the Sea Speech?"_ she wondered. It was just one word, but, how could he know it when she didn't even know the human word … the Faërya word for those things? Was he even right?

Eric continued to hold and soothe Ariel as he cradled her two wrists in his left hand, and it seemed to be helping. This day was proving to be simply awful for his love … horrible, and Eric began to wonder how he could possibly make it right for her.

"Grim, do you know what the other word was?" Eric asked, now looking at the man intently as he relaxed his grip on Ariel's wrists, and took her hands in his instead, feeling that she had finally ceased struggling.

"Other word? My boy, what other word?"

"Sarnavir, something like that" Carlson said, leaving Østerby to Private Lund.

Eric nodded at the Captain's words. "Was _that_ what you said love?" he asked, lowering his head to catch Ariel's eyes with his.

"Sarnalavir." Ariel replied quietly. "I do not … don't … know the Inw … Inglish word … for them."

"Ahh," Beauclerk smiled as he focused his eyes and ears on the distraught young woman before him, hoping to hear her speak more. Indeed, it was the first time he had ever heard their mermaid princess utter anything in her native tongue, so good was her English and her consistency in using it. His smile quickly faded. "I believe that the word means "stone-licker' or some such."

"Lampreys." All eyes turned now to Sael. "Sounds li' she's a' talking 'bout lampreys. 'Nine eyes' is what the Tysk calls 'em too, and fer good reason."

Stepping into the room as though he owned it, the sailor walked across the bedchamber around the foot the bed against whose headboard the young princess now lay coiled, her hands gently held by the Prince that Hans had now known for many years.

"Ya see, them fish, they's like ta' eels, bu' they's not. Got eight slits fer they' gills just right a' hind ther' eyes. Look _mighty_ fierce it does ta' see one, like nine eyes twice o'er a lookin'a' ya' wi' all them wicked rings o' teeth. Rare good eatin' though."

Ariel's eyes followed Hans as he stepped around to her and knelt down beside Eric, looking gently at her. The man Eric had called _'Hans'_ out on the quay now smiled in the same way he had smiled at her just that morning. It was a reassuring smile almost like the one her father shown her when he not long ago returned her to safety from the abyssal caverns, from another adventure gone awry.

He smiled at Ariel and watched her carefully as he spoke, not wanting to frighten her, but instead to scare away her fears of the monstrous fish that he now discerned must _prey_ upon mermaids, at least from what the girl had said and how she had reacted. It made sense that the awful things would, they slew so many other sea creatures, fish especially, and mermaids were half fish, weren't they?

The only problem was that … there weren't any lampreys in the warm waters of the Caribbean. No, those things were creatures of the northern coastal seas and rivers.

"Hello ag'in _Princess_." Hans smiled. "Someone ge' me some linen an' spirits, quick please." he said, then looked to Carlotta, who nodded in return. The woman hastened from the room.

"Humans _eat _nertehendi?" she asked, her eyes widening in amazement. Of all the dark things in the sea, there were few that terrified the girl more than the vicious nine-eyed _sarnalavir_; only certain sharks, giant squid and a few other deadly things from which she had barely escaped in her many adventures. There were few creatures though that the girl hated so viscerally. That humans actually _killed_ and _ate_ the evil vampire fish now gave the mermaid a strange sense of … _comfort_.

Which is exactly what Hans had wanted. "Ya. Ol' Hans eats a lot o' fish, Princess, no' meanin' offense or ta' scare ya', but them lampreys is _miiighty _tasty." The old sailor flashed a toothy grin at the girl.

At this Ariel blanched but realized there was a nuance in what the man was saying, as though to say that even though he ate fish, _she_ still had no cause to be afraid _of him_. This _Hans_ seemed so gentle, like her father at his kindest, but then again, he was a _fish eater_, just as her Eric had been … and maybe _still was_. Her father's warnings echoed confusingly in her mind. How could some humans be so wonderful, yet still eat fish?

"Sir … Sir? Wha … may I ask _what_ exactly you are doing … you'll hur…" Østerby began before Lund silenced him.

"Shut 'yer _damned_ mouth Doctor, before I come o'er there and shut it fer ya'." The old man said without even looking back at the physician. Smiling at the young maiden before him, Sael continued "Pardon m' sailor's tongue, Princess."

Ariel looked at the man and nodded slightly, wondering what he meant. By now the girl's breathing had calmed considerably. "You're going to take them _off_?!" Her frightened eyes widened in sudden hope.

"Aye, tha' I am, since no one else her seems inclined ta'. I've picked my fair share o' leeches in my years. An' I think this one here is abou' ready to come loose." Hans reached out slowly and gently touched the girl's neck.

_"Leeches?"_ she thought. _"What are 'leeches'?"_ That was what the Doctor had called them when he had tried to calm her after she first screamed. Were they not sarnalavir after all? Had she overreacted and panicked like a little girl? Now Ariel was beginning to feel deeply embarrassed … humiliated, and all this after she had tried so hard to be strong … to _not_ be a _guppy_. Whatever they were though, she was still _frightened_ of them … by how they looked, how they moved, how they had made her skin and stomach twist when the Doctor had placed them upon her throat. That they were drinking her blood even as she sat there trying to remain composed. Just thinking of the things in that moment stirred an intense nausea and revulsion within her.

Ariel's eyes never left the old sailor and his hand until she could no longer see the latter as it touched her neck, which might have alarmed her had he not continued to look at her reassuringly.

"An' how does ol' Hans know that? Why, a' cause Hans _says_ it's so Princess."

A strange feeling descended upon Ariel as she realized that she could barely feel the man's fingers, for she could no longer feel the front of her own neck. The former mermaid began to tremble as new and fearful tears welled up in her eyes.

Hans though, seeing the change in the girl's composure, did his best to calm her. "Now, don' be afraid no more dear, we'll ha' these off in bu' a minute."

"Master Sael." Carlson's voice asked from behind. "If they are to be _removed_, should not the decision to do so be taken by the _Princess and Prince_ together? They must bear the consequences, not you or I."

Hans looked up then back at Ariel who returned his gaze, tears beginning to well from her eyes. The man nodded. "Aye. Y'er right."

"_Hans,_ are you sure about this?" Eric asked calmly from Ariel's side, still holding the girl to him.

As Eric spoke Carlotta returned to the room bearing a silver tray with a bottle of cognac and several white linen handkerchiefs piled atop it.

"Aye Eric, sure as can be, though tha' one does look ta be close ta' the' vein." Then looking back to Ariel, he continued. "Ol' Hans'll take good care wi' him." He smiled. "Now don' ya' worry dear."

A soft breeze wafted into the room from the open balcony windows, catching Ariel's hair slightly and blowing it across her face. Eric reached out and gently pushed the red strands of hair back behind his little mermaid's left ear as she stilled herself and watched, her body still trembling.

_"Please take them off."_ She whispered, then stifling a mounting sob she continued, "Eric … _I'm scared_. _ I can't … I can't feel my neck."_

"That's it then. _Get them off of her_." Eric said.

"Well, if you are going to do this, let me help." Carlson requested. "I know someth …"

"Gentlemen … would you _please listen to me_?!" It was Østerby.


	10. Chapter 8a - Doctor's Orders

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown** (**Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 8a – Doctor's Orders**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:30 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

At sea there are times when the water is so calm, so quiet, and so smooth that the ocean will lie about a ship like a looking glass as far as the eye can see. Then as the day wears on the surface of the deep will almost perfectly mirror the heavens above in its placid sheet, so much so that even the most seasoned of sailors can seldom discern where water ends, and sky begins. It is an otherworldly feeling to be amid such a moment, taken by the sense that you have trespassed into an entirely different realm unwed to that of normal human experience. One feels transported into the possibilities of other spaces and other times. Only the silhouette of a distant ship, hull-down with only masts and sails up might betray that otherwise hidden horizon. Vessels in such still waters are most often becalmed, for it is the very want of wind that gives rise to such tranquil seas, and being becalmed is always an unenviable state for a sailor to find himself in.

It is especially in such a quiet and wanting state that something wondrous can sometimes be seen in various parts of the great Ocean Sea that Men now call the Atlantic. In European and Antillean waters sometimes a daughter of the sea will note with wonder the passing of a great ship above, then finding herself filled with a buoyant curiosity be compelled to see what that floating silhouette portends. Off the bow, alongside the hull, or even sometimes astern a slender face will cautiously rise, often with the loveliest pair of eyes and most glorious mane of hair a man might ever see as the curious mermaid investigates this floating enigma.

But shipmen are a keen folk, and a good Master always keeps a sharp lookout, so that as soon as such a maiden of the sea might rise she would surely be seen. The alert watchman posted to that quarter will exclaim at what his eyes beheld, and being so seen, the mermaid must then dive back below to safety; for they are shy creatures. In her passing she might leave behind a last reminder of her presence, the rise and fall of her lovely iridescent tail and delicate flukes, sometimes accompanied by a gentle crack as they slap the surface and she slips below.

The flick of a mermaid's tale can be a beautiful thing when the sun is drawn low as in early morning or evening. It can also be devastating to those who do not know to expect it. Though not nearly as strong as that of her male counterpart, a mermaid's tail is still an amazing creation, soft and supple at times when she is relaxed, but firm and taut with muscular power when she is wroth or in need of haste. By striking the nose, such a flick, now much more than a powerful snap, is usually sufficient to stun a shark long enough for the mermaid to make good her escape; for against the native beasts of the sea, speed is seldom the ally of the Merfolk, who though swift must also swim with their heads up in order to avoid striking themselves unconscious or to death.

Doctor Nils Østerby knew nothing of the Princess's former life, her life as a mermaid, though like so many others he had heard rumors of that strange night now two months past. He was thus oblivious to the fact that that the young woman now lying quietly beneath him possessed natural defensive instincts for which he was entirely unprepared. As most men are ought to, he instead fixated upon the maiden's beauty and charm. Eager to prevent her condition from worsening, he gently began to apply the leeches to her neck.

_"Not delicate … indeed."_ he thought, impressed by the girl's determination.

Her eyelids twitched and her lower lip trembled slightly as the first four crept across her neck to find good places to attach themselves. He could see the girl react to their coolness as they touched her pale skin; it was obvious that she didn't like the sensation. He watched as the first leech found its place and anchored itself, then the second, then the others. All four then began to throb and undulate with the same sanguine rhythm that signified they had begun their task.

Given that he felt his time was short, the Physician decided that he would need more than four to reduce the plethora he feared developing in her legs, so back into the jar he reached, drawing forth half a dozen more of the creatures. Turning back to the tranquil princess he was about to place this next six upon her breast and neck when the girl unexpectedly opened her beautiful blue eyes. A soft sound half a whimper, half a frightened breath broke her previous silence.

Ariel immediately fixated upon the writhing mass held before her within the tongs, hideous black and brown things obviously and imminently destined for her body. Realizing now what had been placed upon her, or at least thinking that she did, the mermaid's eyes shot open and a terrified scream erupted from her, her arms flailing and pressing her body away from the things now dangling before her. Half sitting Ariel slammed backwards against her bed's headboard, drawing her lovely legs into what seemed a fetal position against her vulnerable torso as all rational thought fled her mind. Her face contorted into a mask of deep and visceral terror; mindless panic is all that she knew.

"No! … No! … I refuse!" she cried as she threw her hands up to her neck and face.

In that instant, for only an instant it took, had Østerby any knowledge of Ariel's kind he would have known that this was far from a passive and defenseless pose. The physician could be forgiven his mistake, for her eyes were now closed and her arms drawn across her breast, neck and face as though she could not bear to see what now assailed her, but he learned suddenly enough as the maiden's lovely slender legs snapped out together in a sinuous motion as graceful as it was violent.

The girl's bare plunging feet caught the tongs and jar, sending both them and their writhing contents flying through the air. The jar careened straight across the room, shattering and spilling out upon the floor beneath the far wall. The tongs flew straight into Østerby's face, smashing him across the left eye while their squirming passengers plummeted straight onto the Princess's bed. Had his handsome face been perhaps an inch lower, her powerful kick would surely have caught his head and snapped his neck.

To Ariel in her panic the movement felt strange, for she had snapped her tail thus many times before, almost always involuntarily, even as she did now. In this instance though, she felt strangely weak and disjointed as her new feet and legs were unaccustomed and unsuited to such a joined movement. They spread out as they thrust downward, something her tail and fins would and could have never done. This came as a surprise to her and threw her off balance, making her recoil even more in terror as she unthinkingly drew her legs back in, for in that moment she had forgotten … that she was now human.

Nils Østerby was truly stunned, not just startled by this unexpected turn of events, for the girl was now screaming through her tears strange words he had never before heard as she drew herself quickly to the far corner of the bed and away from him. There, she collapsed into a sobbing little ball, and continued to cry out in what seemed a strange but beautiful language as her hands darted to her slender neck. Obviously she wanted the leeches off of her, but for the treatment to work they had to remain. Moreover, if she tore them off, all manner of complications might follow.

Nils regretted what he must next do.

Regaining his customary calm, the Doctor took the footstool and stepped around the corner of the bed to the weeping girl, his heart now actually hurting to see her reduced to such a poor state.

Setting the stool upon the floor, he sat before the young princess and gently clasped her slender arms, pulling them away from her neck. She struggled immediately, her eyes flying open as she tried to free them from Østerby's grip. Beneath her, she found her legs now tucked elegantly away in such a manner as to preclude her kicking again. It was then that her eyes met his.

"Be silent my dear. Please … be calm. All is well." The Physician said in the most comforting voice he could manage given the circumstances. He had to calm her before she hurt herself or else forced him to start all over again.

One last time she strained to break her hands free, a mixture of hopeless sobs and desperate cries that fell incoherently from her soft red lips. "No! … No! … don't!" she screamed.

"Princess! There is _no need to fear_. Please calm yourself!" he cried desperately.

Ariel was in no state of mind to even understand her own tongue, let alone one with which she was only now gaining greater fluency. She was nearly out of her mind with fear, as one only finds oneself on the brink of death; a horrible death. There were sarnalavir on her now, and even if they hadn't yet, soon they would begin to bore into her flesh, eating into her from within. They were on her neck and she had to get them off before they ate into the delicate and vital flesh she knew to be there.

Why was he doing this to her?!

As though the nertehendi were not enough, now her head was beginning to ache, to throb again, the pain becoming so terrible that she felt as though she was going to be sick as she had been before. It was too much, the human healer was too strong and she couldn't even begin to move her arms or hands. She couldn't kick, she couldn't move. She was trapped. In desperation, she cried out the name of the only person she knew who would help her no matter what happened.

**_"... Eiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiic!"_**

With this done, she slumped helplessly against Østerby, her head lolling as her overwrought mind lost all awareness and her willowy muscles all tone. The Physician heard the barking of a hound growing closer, and reasoned that it must be the Prince's dog. Prince Eric would no doubt be not far behind. He sighed, there would be much to explain.

As the dog came bounding into the room it quickly went quiet, then disappeared from view. As long as it wasn't attacking him, Østerby had much more important things to concern himself, namely the Princess.

Gently then, the Doctor pressed the girl back by her forearms until she was once again upright, her back resting against her headboard and her head nodding, then smiled at her, for a moment overcome by her elegant beauty, even in her present swoon.

There was a loud cry to her right. Ariel was vaguely aware that there were other humans in her room now, for she heard them talking, almost yelling at one another, but she didn't care, couldn't care, not until her arms were released that is. Then a woman was there beside her as well, a woman that she knew … a human woman.

Two other men were instantly there beside the one who had been holding her, seizing him from behind. It was all so confusing and frightening to her. What was happening? Ariel wondered how she could know a human woman, one who was saying words the mermaid couldn't understand, human words … Inwilya words. _"Why are these humans doing this to me … why?" _Her mind screamed.

_"Doing … what?"_ she asked herself. Suddenly remembering that there were sarnalavir on her body, Ariel desperately clasped at her neck, feeling at once their soft and writing masses with her sensitive fingers, she began to whimper and cry once again. It was true, she was being eaten alive. All that she could think of now was pulling the nertehendi from her throat before they could burrow deeper into her. How many were there? By now her cries had nearly become screams once again.

Then the human woman seized her arms, and Ariel lost all composure, not that she had much left at that point. The woman began to yell at her, but Ariel couldn't understand … could she? Something though seemed … familiar … about this woman's words.

"No! No! Let me go! Let me go!" She screamed pathetically, feeling as though she would collapse again at any second. She was being eaten alive, and she couldn't even feel it. Could there be a more horrific fate? Only a final cry escaped her mouth, a cry again to that one name, but in that awful moment she could not remember who that name … actually belonged to.

" _…_ _Eriiic_!" she screamed hopelessly as despair one again crashed in upon her and she broke down into wave after wave of terrified sobs.

Then there was a change. She felt the grip upon her wrists relax as a larger, warmer set of hands gently clasped her wrists. Though Ariel tried still to pull away, she felt a familiar kindness and reassurance in that touch that caused her fears to lessen … if not to abate entirely. She knew that touch, she knew the voice that she heard speaking to her now, but she couldn't understand the words, his words …

But ... she could.

"Ariel, it's me … Eric. I'm right here, love."

_"Eric!"_ something in her heart leaped with hope, even as a terrible fatigue came flooding in upon her, an emotional weariness that would have turned to hopelessness had his voice not been the one speaking to her. She would be safe with him, he would make her safe, wouldn't he?

"I know you're scared but you're alright, you're not hurt. Can you understand me?"

_"She was … unhurt? But … but the sarnalavir!"_ she protested with her eyes, looking up now at the man, a man she instantly recognized as the very one who had just weeks ago asked her to wed him, to pledge her life to him, the human man she loved more than anyone or anything else in the sea … or on the earth.

_"Let me go…"_ she pleaded in a voice almost a whisper, _"Eric … Let me go!" _but still, he seemed not to understand.

"Ariel, English … in _English_, I can't understand you. Can you speak English to me?" the man replied.

"Yes … I can speak English." she said brokenly between sniffs, tears now running freely down her red cheeks, but he still looked at her as though he didn't understand.

Then she remembered, yes … Inwilya, the Faërya tongue … Archimedes' lessons … her human books.

Eric did not understand the speech of the sea, the Eärya, she remembered, but she could speak Inglish, did speak English. She loved her human tongue that she had struggled so hard to master.

Ariel sought to gather her thoughts, to remember … how to speak. Slowly, the words came to her, then the order in which they should go … how they should be said. As her daze lifted, she at last spoke back to her love.

"Why … why will you not … let me go?" she pleaded. A shortness of breath took her and she struggled to breath. She needed to sleep so badly.

* * *

Østerby was surprised, but nevertheless listened quietly to the ensuing conversations.

Between the maiden's strange but beautiful words and Lord Grimsby's mysterious comprehension of them, the Physician was left completely stunned. Again, Østerby thought back to the rumors surrounding the Prince's recent failed wedding. Nor was Grimsby the only man there to impress him.

The Captain was proving obstinate; and even the old sailor, well he seemed as comfortable with the Prince and Princess as though he had been an uncle. Wholly remarkable, Nils thought.

* * *

But Østerby became increasingly uncomfortable as the old sailor and the Captain of the Guard prepared to remove the leeches from the Princess. Indeed he felt a growing concern for her welfare. Unmolested, the four tiny creatures would soon fall off, satiated and having done their work, but it seemed the men's intent was instead to remove them before they had finished. There were many risks associated with that course of action, and Nils had no idea of what either of these men actually knew about such matters, so he intervened.

"Gentlemen … Princess." The Physician interrupted again. "Please, listen to me."

Eric barely turned his head toward the man, and instead continued to comfort and hold Ariel with his right arm while gently restraining her hands. "Doctor …," he said in a low heated voice, "you had better give me a good reason. Can you _not_ _see_ what you've _done_ to her!? She's scared half to death!"

The Physician was slow to respond, and when he did there was a clear tone of regret in his quiet words "Yes your highness, I can see, and I apologize for startling the Princess, I truly do, but I assure you that my treatment was out of a _vital _need to reduce her growing sanguinary edema.

"Her _what_? You said that before. What are you talking about _Doctor_? Explain yourself." The prince said with a growing irritation in his voice. Eric's patience, already worn thin with the day's awful events, was now nearing its breaking point.

"Yes sire." the Doctor sighed. "In my examination I found the Princess's sufficiency of bodily waters, to be severely depleted, not a surprise given the circumstances you told me had befallen her. This has given rise to a humoral imbalance that demands immediate correction, for it has resulted in a growing excess of blood in her extremities, her lower legs in particular."

"And what exactly does _that_ mean?" Eric demanded, continuing to stroke Ariel's hair as she lay quiescent, her head against his right shoulder.

"She has too much blood pooling in her lower legs your Highness, and that condition was worsening such that it alarmed me, for I've never before encountered so strange an edema in a young woman."

Østerby had no idea of Ariel's true origins, Eric thought, but _he_ did.

Immediately, his mind turned to Ariel and her beautiful legs, legs perfectly formed that had recently been not legs at all but rather a supple and delicate tail. Could there be something in her prolonged exposure to heat and sun or imperfection in her transformation, even under the awesome might of her father, which had left her especially vulnerable; vulnerable where a human-born woman would not have been?

How tolerant were mermaids of such privation given that they were creatures of the sea? Eric could only imagine the horror his little mermaid must have felt baking under the ruthless Caribbean sun, and ached for having unnecessarily prolonged that agony for her. Was he now making the same mistake, denying her the Physician's relief when she needed it so badly?

"Go on Doctor." The Prince continued, a cautious concern in his voice.

"Yes your highness. I'm afraid that this condition will _not _abate on its own, nor will simple refreshment with water and rest remove her excess blood, the plethora. I suspect that her ordeal under the hot sun has harmed her body's natural ability to heal itself such that only bleeding might set her constitution aright. Otherwise her condition will grow worse, I assure you. You can see this now in her growing lethargy."

Eric looked down at Ariel now, her eyes drooping as she tried to remain alert against his shoulder.

Without moving her head Ariel lifted her eyes sensing that Eric's attention had shifted to her. She wondered if she were in such grave peril as the healer said, all because of the sun. But how could these awful things that he had put on her help? She felt thirsty again but as before too frightened and weary to speak.

There was no doubt in Eric's mind that Ariel was exhausted just as Østerby had said, which was troubling because he couldn't possibly bring her back out to the quay after all of this. He was beginning to think he would have to confront the men alone after all, not the most desirable approach, but he wasn't about to let his little mermaid suffer one second more today.

"When I first offered the scarificator to bleed the Princess, she was very brave and actually _asked_ for the more trying method, which of course consisted of medicinal leeches." He paused and smiled at Ariel who cautiously returned her to his eyes from the safety of Eric's embrace, obviously trying to listen and understand what he was saying.

_"An intelligent young woman." _The Physician thought. _"Not to mention quite brave, having chosen the leeches." _He should let that be known, especially to her prince. He would be proud of her and that might help the poor girl out of this difficult moment.

"To be honest, she did quite well for a while. Indeed I had already applied the four you now see to her neck when she opened her eyes and became … well, quite upset." Østerby sighed.

Ariel lowered her eyes in embarrassment, not even wanting to imagine what Eric must think now of her childish fears. Obviously, this was something that _human women_ endured all the time.

"Of course I understand that she found the leeches to be too much despite her determination; I should have known better, spoken to her about the option she had chosen in more detail to ensure that she was prepared. After all, many young ladies have a similar reaction, most do really. In hindsight, perhaps I should have _insisted_ upon the scarificator."

"Oh. Well, I think she _would have_ preferred the leeches over _that_." Eric shook his head. "Please explain to me then then why you were _holding_ her arms when I and the Captain came?"

At this Ariel brightened somewhat, not feeling so humiliated given that these were things humans, at least human women, feared too. Didn't human men? Eric hadn't seemed to be afraid of them, nor had Hans, nor the healer. And from what Eric had said, she had been _right_ to avoid the healer's awful device, which secretly terrified her almost as much as the leeches.

"For the very reason you too are now holding her arms my Prince. I was trying to keep her from injuring herself." The Physician paused, regret still deep in his voice.

"You see, after she pulled away across her bed, she immediately began trying to remove them herself, the leeches, which posed the danger that she might remove one that might be feeding from near her jugular vein. I only stayed her arms to prevent her from doing so when … well, when she became faint."

"I felt terribly sorry for her, but what else could I do, I ask you? Had I myself removed the leeches then I would have been failing to treat her malady, a potentially fatal condition. They were the lesser of two evils and my oath and dedication to my art compels me to render such aid as I can, to do no harm. I _had_ to do _something_."

Carlson had listened silently out of respect for his Prince since his last words with Østerby, but still felt a deep disgust rising within him at the charlatan's art this man practiced, an art that had killed, maimed, and weakened far more than it had ever healed; if it had ever truly healed _anyone_.

The remorse in the Physician's voice surprised Derek though, such that for a moment he allowed himself to carefully consider the man's perspective as his father had years ago taught him. There _was_ a logic to the Physician's words, and had the Captain shared Østerby's beliefs in this _heroic medicine_ he espoused, he might have taken the very same actions. But he didn't share those beliefs, and wondered how bleeding the young woman from her throat might remedy a malady of the legs.

"Please, if you merely wait for a few minutes and leave them, you shall see that the little creatures shall fall off of their own accord painlessly, their task complete." The Doctor was now concerned that out of fear, out of simple naiveté, the young woman might hurt herself far more than the leeches ever could. "My Prince, might I please speak to her?"

Eric paused then nodded his head as he continued to alternately stroke Ariel's hair and caress her neck. This seemed to comfort her, as he had found his touch often did, for he could feel her now relaxed as she lay silent as a lamb in his right arm. Her eyelids were almost shut now, and Eric couldn't help but despair at how spent his little mermaid must now be. He closed his own eyes as he rested his cheek gently upon hers and her soft red hair.

Holding Ariel in any fashion was something he normally enjoyed deeply, even treasured … but not now, not under such awful circumstances when she had been frightened out of her wits. _"How could she have ever expected any of this when she sacrificed so much just to … to be with me?"_ he wondered.

All he could do now was hold and comfort her until this unnecessary ordeal was over. Without looking back to the physician, he replied quietly, "Yes, go on if you think it will help her, though it looks as though she is nearly asleep. It might be easiest on her if we let her."

"Thank you my Prince, but if you'll permit me, I wish to remedy my earlier error of not explaining matters sufficiently to her. I'll not make the same mistake _twice_. Those leeches must come off, and she needs to understand what will happen afterwards. There will be bleeding for up to several hours, then some minor bruising. May I?"

_"Several hours?!"_ Eric thought in dismay. "_Damn!"_ That would surely delay her return to the quay. As much as he wanted to let Ariel rest, Eric saw the Physician's wisdom in ensuring she understood what was about to happen. Reluctantly, he nodded, but kept his cheek upon Ariel's head.

The Physician nodded, and seeing Eric's assent looked gently over to Ariel. "Princess, please, would you look at me?"

Having closed her eyes as she rested against Eric, Ariel hesitantly opened and raised them to again meet the human healer's.

"Please, accept my apology for frightening you so; I assure you that was not my intent." he entreated her, "As I was trying to explain to you when the good Prince arrived, the little creatures are actually harmless."

"But … they _hurt_ me." she protested softly. While in hindsight the pain had not been so great, she had endured worse after all; the frightening nature of these … _leeches_ … had made it seem so much worse. What concerned her now though was that she could not feel _anything_ on her neck, and she knew from the touch of her own hands that those … things … were _still there_.

"Princess, please trust me, I know my craft very well. Those four little creatures have done you no harm." He smiled at the girl gently, trying to reassure her. "What you felt is only a slight discomfort from their tiny and quite harmless bites, nothing more." The Doctor then paused respectfully as he saw his beautiful young patient begin to protest once again.

"But … I can't feel my neck." Sitting elegantly and placidly upon her bed as she rested within Eric's warm embrace, Ariel looked back at the doctor as she listened calmly and tried to fight her fears. Though she could not have known it, could have never herself recognized it, in that moment she was the very picture of loveliness, and not just to Østerby.

Then something happened that greatly alarmed everyone who watched. The Princess's beautiful cobalt blue eyes widened suddenly as though startled. Then gasping she opened her delicate mouth slightly as her lower lip trembled. Her whole body shuddered as though a chill had taken her.

"Ariel?" Eric asked, holding her even more closely now, "Love, are you hurt? What's wrong … _what is it_?"

The young princess did not respond, which alarmed everyone in the room all the more. Tears began to run silently from her eyes, eyes that were now strangely vacant, seemingly staring off into space.

"Ariel?" Eric asked again with growing concern, "Please, what's wrong?!"

"My dear, are you alright?" the Doctor asked worriedly, the continued hesitantly. "Princess, I can see that you are still frightened, but the reason you feel nothing is that leeches remove the discomfort of their own bite. It is one of their great qualities, unlike the scarificator which can be a bit more painful."

"Doctor, what is wrong with her, why did she …" Eric began with alarm.

"My Prince, _please_ … may I go to her?" the doctor asked, turning his attention momentarily to the Prince.

Eric sighed, realizing now not only that Ariel was in no danger from the Physician, but that he himself had badly overreacted in accusing the man in the first place. In fact, Østerby might now be the only person present who could discern whatever had suddenly troubled his love.

There could be no doubt now that he owed the Doctor an apology, but it would have to wait until later when Ariel was resting. She seemed nearly ready to fall asleep even as he held her. "It's alright love, you're safe." The prince said, then continued softly, "Nothing is going to hurt you."

"Yes. Yes of course Doctor. Please forgive me for my earlier … misunderstanding." Eric replied quietly. "Jens, you can let him go now."

Looking back over his shoulder at the two, the obstinate Carlson shot a disapproving glare at the Doctor, refusing to understand that even his _Prince_ had erred in his earlier misplaced hostility to the well-meaning physician.

As soon as Prince Eric ordered the Doctor's release, Jens Lund relaxed his grasp and let the man's arms go. The grateful Doctor turned to the young man and smiled in appreciation. "Thank you Private Lund."

Stepping over to Carlson now the Physician smiled humbly and addressed the man. "Captain, I can see that you _still_ do not trust me. Can you not see that I intended the Princess no harm, rather to help her?"

Derek's response was a grim and determined stare back at Østerby. In deference to his Prince's decision the officer kept silent.

"Captain, would you feel better if you helped me remove the leeches yourself? In any case, I assure you that she shall then be far safer from whatever it is that you fear. That is what you desire, is it not?"

It was true what the Doctor had said, Carlson thought. Unless their bite pierced either an artery or vein, medicinal leeches usually themselves did little harm, if they were properly removed that is. The correct technique for their removal, however, was not universally known even among the so-called "physicians" of Doctor Rush's school. Østerby was Danish, but still seemed to adhere to the same Edinburgh school of thought that his father had so disdained and rejected in his own traveling practice.

Given her origins, Princess Ariel's distress was most likely due to unfamiliarity with parasites and vermin as well as their alienness rather than any significant harm they had done to her. Still, Derek couldn't help but be incensed that this Doctor had terrified the young woman so in attempting to treat a condition that warranted only cool water and rest.

Østerby should have known that such a young lady who had never been bled was apt to react _exactly_ as Ariel had upon merely _seeing_ leeches, and especially once she realized that the things were to be placed upon her _body_.

Perhaps it _would _be best though to finish the matter and remove the damned things from her now. Derek looked to the young woman, now lying in Eric's protective and loving embrace.

There was another consideration on the Captain's mind though, which was that the sailors and workmen on the quay would be waiting by now with their tempers high, these unlikely to improve with the passage of time, and the day was drawing swiftly onward. He also wondered how the preparations he had ordered for not only Eric's entreaty to the men had been progressing, but also those for the Princess's surprise birthday voyage tomorrow in _Lyn_.

As Carlson was considering these matters he found to his surprise that his right hand was somehow now resting upon the hilt of his sword. "Strange," he thought, and let his sword hand drop to his side.

"Thank you Captain." The Doctor sighed, a clear relief in his voice, then added respectfully "With your permission, I'll take the young lady's side and ask you to join me shortly."

With a slight hesitation, Carlson nodded and stepped to the side.

"Mistress Grimaldi. I beg your pardon."

Carlotta had been watching this whole affair unfold, and from the very moment that Ariel had screamed had felt utterly powerless to either help or console the girl. The poor thing had simply been so distraught that the Housekeeper had no idea of what to do. Then Eric and the Captain had arrived followed by the other two men, and there was no longer any room for her at Ariel's bedside, so the Housekeeper stood and remained slightly behind Eric as he comforted the former mermaid in the way it seemed that only her boy could.

Carlotta loved seeing the two together, how natural their affinity was for one another, and how profoundly happy they were in a way that Eric, and she suspected Ariel, had never before been. This day had been so awful and so traumatic for her little Ariel that she could see no way the girl could possibly be consoled before her birthday tomorrow. The Housekeeper feared that all of the efforts that had been spent toward that happy day had now proven to have been in vain.

Worse yet, they still had to confront the ugly rumors about her starting with the sailors out on the quay and knew that Eric must be agonizing at what had so far transpired. If only these horrible leeches could be removed, they could get their little Princess into a nice cool bath and help her refresh herself before they once again went forth to confront her accusers.

Bending over Eric's shoulder, Carlotta sweetly caressed Ariel's cheek, and felt the girl sigh softly as she closed her eyes at the gesture, eyes that had been filled with tears but minutes before. Carlotta looked up from the young woman and nodded back to the Physician. "Yes Doctor, please take good care of her." She said, and then returned her concerned eyes to the beautiful girl beneath her.

"_Master Hans_? May I please pass that I may tend to tend the young lady? I shall need to sit next to her." Østerby said, again in a mild and regretful voice. "I should think that the leeches have almost finished their task by now."

Hans felt reluctant to remove from the princess's side though, and continued to look at the young woman whose attention was now divided between her Prince, Østerby and the old sailor, her eyes opening and closing as though terribly tired and in need of sleep. "_Ain't a' movin_." he replied, then continued "Thank y' much, but I'll a' be stayin' put righ' here."

"Master _Sael_," the man replied softly, kneeling gently down by Sael's left side. "I know that you don't wish to leave her side, but can you imagine how happy and relieved the Princess shall be when I remove those leeches?" Østerby said, pointing with an upturned and slightly outstretched hand to Ariel's neck.

The old man seemed to consider this for a moment. It was true, if anything terrified this young woman more than what had happened to her out on the quay, it would have to be those squirming things she had thought were lampreys.

Had this been his beautiful little Elna he would have done _anything_ that he could to chase that fear away. Never again would he have that chance …but he did with _this_ girl. She was his second chance to be something like a father and his last chance to have meant something before he died and was forgotten. A tear ran down Hans' left cheek as he nodded and reluctantly stood. After a moment, he stepped back from Ariel without a word.

Kneeling beside the Princess, the Østerby lowered his head before he spoke, obviously deeply regretting the terrible misunderstanding that had occurred with not only her, but all of the others in the room.

"Princess Ariel, I am so, so sorry for all of this. I meant only to help you and I've made a terrible mess of things. Please trust me though; to help you is _all_ that I desire." He paused again. "Can you trust me?"

Ariel was so utterly spent physically and emotionally now that she had no strength remaining to her at all. Moreover, the feeling in her bedchamber had changed, and it seemed that everyone felt that not only had she _panicked_, but that she had done so unnecessarily … like the very _guppy_ she had been trying so hard _not_ to be. She had wanted to be strong, to prove that she was as resilient as any human girl, but she had failed utterly. This hurt her more than anything else as she wondered what Eric must think of her now.

Her father had been right, and while she was surer now than she ever had been about Eric's love as well as that of those who had become so close to her in just these past few weeks, there were things she was finding now about the human world that frightened her at least as much as _anything_ she had encountered under the sea.

Worst of all, looking back upon all of her many foolish adventures she could see the clear pattern of how she had repeatedly hurt those who loved her the most, how she had taken those around her for granted, how she had _never_ apologized for _any of her mistakes_, and how her recklessness had endangered and continued to endanger those around her.

She was so tired, so tired of fighting, so tired of being a burden.

The past weeks with Eric since her transformation had been nothing short of the happiest in her life, but now after this day, what happened that morning, what was happening to her _now_, could things _ever_ be right in this new life for her, especially given that her old life and the sea itself were soon to be forever lost to her?

She would _try_ to make things right, she really would, but for the time being, Ariel's one desire, her one _selfish_ desire … was to get the horrible creatures off of her.

_"Yes."_ She nodded to the Physician as she choked back a quiet sob.

Eric was right there as all of this transpired. He could see the look in Ariel's eyes as the Doctor spoke to her, could see how badly she wanted to be free of the leeches that had so terrified her. It was fortunate that Hans had been there to help them piece together his love's words when she had badly needed to be understood, otherwise they would have never been able to calm her.

Eric found a new appreciation for Doctor Østerby's bedside manner with his little mermaid, though the man would likely not know that secret of theirs for some time unless it became an absolute necessity. He was eager to let the Physician finish his work so they could get on to the more pressing matter of how they were going to persuade the men outside that Ariel was not a witch … and not a threat to anyone.

Yet something … _gnawed_ at him.

"Thank you, princess." The man continued to Ariel in an almost fatherly tone. "Now let me explain as I should have before all of this began. These creatures are called _medicinal leeches_ and are used every day to treat all manner of maladies throughout the civilized world. They are emphatically not … what was it that Master Sael said you thought them to be?"

"Sar …" Ariel paused even as the word began to leave her mouth, then looking to Hans briefly she closed her eyes for a moment "… lam ... lamprey … s"

"Lampreys … yes. Princess, please don't feel embarrassed; the fault is my own. I failed to adequately appreciate that you had never before encountered such things and should have given you more insight into what I was offering as treatment. Please trust me; the leeches _are_ making you better, pulling harmful humors from your body even as we speak. I can only ask your forgiveness."

As the Physician spoke, Eric could hear words, other words in the Doctor's voice that the man was not … was not speaking. It was disorienting, giving him almost a sense of vertigo … and making his head hurt.

Ariel watched Østerby as the Physician spoke, her eyes seldom leaving his.

The doctor smiled softly at the girl. "In your case those humors were the very excess _blood_ causing such swelling of your extremities. Edema … _you remember, yes_?"

Ariel nodded again. "Yes." she said, all the while wondering if he would ever remove the things. She just wanted them off. Would she ever feel her neck again? Had it been eaten away?

"You see my Prince? The Princess is just fine and no longer so fearful."

Eric nodded, though he couldn't help but feel that something just wasn't … right. As hard as Eric tried to ignore the conflicted sensation he couldn't dismiss the strange other words but neither could he recognize or understand them, so distracting was the conversation around him. He decided that he would have to consider these things later. In the meantime, all that mattered, the only thing that mattered was that Ariel was safe, comfortable and sufficiently rested to once again face her accuser out on the quay. That now seemed likely to take more time than he had wished. He would go back the quay alone if need be.

"Master Sael. Do you wish to help me? After all, you had yourself been preparing to remove the leeches before I interrupted you, had you not?"

Then, turning to Carlson, he continued with hardly a pause. "Captain, as I mentioned you can help her as well. Now that I think of it there is no need that I actually do this myself if you think that your presence at the Princess's side would make her feel more comfortable than my own."

As before, Derek had been standing and watching quietly out of a respect for the Prince and his stricken fiancée. His thoughts turned momentarily from Østerby's words and the Princess to a concern about the proceedings on the dock outside.

As the Physician now invited Carlson to Princess Ariel's side he felt his heart surge against every strand of his will. Save for his duties to America and to Eric, he could think of nothing more in all of the earth that he desired than Ariel's happiness and safety, even if he himself could never be a part of her life.

His affection for the young woman was a devotion that had strengthened his bonds to Eric, if that was even possible now, given that the prince had been almost a younger brother to him these last few years. But Carlson feared that his affection and care for the Princess were only symptoms of a more profound attraction, an impossible and unacceptable love that could not be allowed. And he would not allow it, and therefore had denied himself even the thought of it. Yet there she was, scared and in need of help, help that only he could surely provide; just as she had been those five short weeks ago when she had forever stolen away his heart. How could he ever say no?

Derek had seen people try to simply pull leeches off, to annoy them with spirits, to burn them into loosing themselves. Pulling them off often left their tiny jaws embedded in the wounds, wounds which would then fester and become corrupt. The other methods served to only to irritate the things such that they vomited the contents of their gut back into the very bite wounds they had fed from.

A fever often ensued, a deadly fever.

Accompanying his father in his practice back in the Ohio country, the Captain had personally had seen no less than three people, two of them children, sicken and die of that fever. No, he could not and would not allow that to happen to Ariel. If need be, he would remove the damned things himself, for he still couldn't bring himself to trust Østerby after what he had done to the maiden.

"Yes, of course Doctor" he said quietly, stepping forward now.

Østerby stepped back, making room for Carlson as the Captain knelt beside his patient's bedside.

"Master Sael, Captain, you can assist each other. If you do not mind I shall watch, and that way between the three of us we shall see them removed though I still wish that we might let nature prevail."

Hans nodded and stepped forward. "Aye, tha' I'll do." Cap'n, if ya' don' mind?"

"Not at all Master Hans." Carlson replied, looking over to the old sailor with a look of approval before once again turning to Ariel.

Carlson let Hans kneel first before lowering himself to his right knee and looking at the maiden lying still in his Prince's right arm.

Perhaps sensing the movement in the air before her, Ariel opened her eyes, blinking. She felt Eric's reassuring hand caressing her hair and now and again the back of her neck as she looked up to find the Captain and Master Hans looking at her, but so intently they hardly seemed to notice her looking back.

"Just four as the Doctor said, this one looks rather full." Derek said as he studied the leeches alongside Sael. "Do you see that one …?"

Hans nodded. "I'll watch 'im." The sailor hesitated. "Are ya' ready?"

Derek was about to nod to Hans when looking up he found himself looking into Princess Ariel's brilliant blue eyes … and froze. His heart skipped a beat. It was an exercise he had repeated many times in her presence, regaining his focus after finding her curious eyes turned in his direction. He smiled, though his heart now leapt in his chest against his will. "Not to worry Princess." he reassured the young woman softly, "This is almost over, just another minute or two." For a moment he imagined that he saw a faint and grateful smile grace her lovely face, but decided it to be a product of only his hopeful imagination.

Eric felt Ariel relax against his shoulder as Østerby withdrew and the two men took his place. The tension in her arms slackened and she softly exhaled while the slight trembling he had felt in her lessened until he felt it no more. He let himself simply feel her breathing next to him. To him, there was no more beautiful sound, but the strange discord of words continued to dog him, a cacophony of voices he decided must be a consequence of his own now exhausted mind.

Opening the bottle of cognac that now sat on her nightstand, Hans took a linen handkerchief from the tray and wetted it. As he did so one of the leeches shuddered and fell almost in perfect timing with his motion.

"Aye, there's some fair luck." the old salt exclaimed, looking over to Carlson, who nodded and smiled back. Catching the leech as it fell, Hans put the napkin to Ariel's neck as blood began to run from her wound.

"Now, if only the others would cooperate so." the Captain replied.

Ariel felt something warm trickle down her neck before Hans caught it in a cloth. She knew it for what it was, her own blood, and that realization caused an old fear to rise within her. She shuddered and a soft cry escaped her slightly parted lips, little more than a panicked breath verging on a whimper.

Hans placed the leech in a nearby porcelain vessel. Silently, he placed another napkin upon the young woman's wound, for her blood was already staining the first a bright red. "There now Princess, it's no' so bad. Just a little seep tis' all. Nothin' to be afraid of or ta' worry even one pretty hair on y'er head abou'."

"Keep a good press on it Hans. It'll make it stop all the much sooner." Derek advised.

Pouring some of the cognac into the deep portion of the tray, Derek rinsed his fingers in it, then prepared a handkerchief as Sael had before. Hearing Ariel's quiet distress, he gently extended his right hand to her slender neck. Placing his finger under the feeding end of one of the leeches while taking care not to grasp its body, he broke its suction, then followed suit with its engorged anchoring end.

Ariel felt a slight sensation against her neck, her neck which seemed almost numb. For the first time, her eyes moved until they once again met Carlson's. He was smiling at her, a smile which brightened as he saw her looking at him. It was … comforting. Then it occurred to her that it was not the first time that she had seen him smile. But when had that other time, those other times, been? Today since he came to her aid, his only expression had been one of grim determination and even anger. She had only spoken to him before in passing, almost always in Eric's company, and while he had always been polite and even kind to her, he had never smiled at her so warmly.

"Two left to go, Princess." Carlson said quietly as he removed the second leech to the basin.

The former mermaid replied with the slightest of nods, trying to smile but failing. Seeing its swollen mass, Ariel shuddered, knowing that it was her own blood that had made the revolting thing so fat as she tried to not think about herself bleeding. The girl worked hard now to remain calm as the men continued to work, an effort aided by her extreme fatigue.

The leech writhed in Derek's left hand and began to bite before the officer managed to deposit it into the vessel. The other two creatures followed, and as before after each Carlson and Sael carefully caught the Princess's blood and cleaned her wounds. They would bleed for a while.

"Tha' be it, they's all a' gone Princess. Ye can relax now. Ain' none o' 'em left. Not a one." Hans smiled.

Ariel sighed quietly in relief, closing her eyes as she nestled against Eric. While she could feel pressure where the Captain and Hans still pressed the handkerchiefs against her neck, her neck still felt strangely numb.

"Thank you." She said in a quiet voice, managing a slight smile at the two men.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it my _dear_?" Østerby asked in a kindly voice.

Ariel opened her eyes again, looking at the Doctor for just a moment before turning them back to Eric's chest.

That was the only cue that Eric needed to know Ariel's desire.

"Doctor, if you'll forgive us, the Princess needs to rest. If there is nothing else, I'm sure that we can take care of her from this point." Eric said, the message clear to all that he preferred the Doctor to leave them in peace. "Private Voss will escort you to the front gates and see that you are paid."

"Yes, well then, that being said my dear Princess, my good Prince, I shall be going. It pleases me to have finally met you both, and especially the young lady. She is … quite remarkable."

Ariel didn't move even a bit against Eric. There was nothing more for her to say, not after everything that had happened. She wanted to cry, knowing that this ordeal was over, but she had cried enough already today. She felt so small, like she was a child again, just needing to be held when being held was the only remedy for an injured heart. So instead of responding, she lay perfectly still, with only the slight rise and fall of her chest against Eric's to tell him that she was still alive.

Eric held his tongue simply waiting for the moment the Physician disappeared from his sight. Generally the young prince made no distinction in how he treated others, having been practically raised by sailors during his many years at sea, and there was no more common a man than a sailor. He was always polite and considerate no matter the rank or station of the person to whom he was speaking. Where he did draw a distinction though was based on his assessment of peoples' characters, especially the politeness and concern that they displayed for others, for he had seen many of high birth who regarded the less fortunate as lesser beings and many commoners who had no sense of concern for either others or the needs of his people as a whole. This Østerby was a puzzle to him, seemingly kind in his bedside manner yet the man had frightened Ariel so badly that for a while she had nearly lost her wits, and Eric was finding that few things angered him more than seeing his little mermaid either frightened or hurt.

Gathering his things into his satchel, much to everyone's astonishment Østerby calmly stood and stepped over to the Housekeeper, taking her hand. "My dear Mistress Grimaldi. I cannot express my sufficient delight at the good order and beauty with which you keep household and for the care you have given the Prince and our new Princess. But let me also say that you yourself are quite charming and I should hope that we might meet again … under more pleasant circumstances." With that, he lifted Carlotta's slender hand and kissed it. The Physician took his time before he gently returned it hand to her side, smiling at her all the while.

Taken completely by surprise, Carlotta blushed at the man whom just moments ago she had been ready to harangue for overstaying his welcome after terrifying her young charge.

Eric bristled the moment the doctor touched Carlotta's hand and he wondered why she seemed reluctant to resist the man's attentions; it was so _unlike_ her. Had he _neglected_ her in the time he had spent with Ariel these past few weeks? Eric felt a pang of guilt, wondering if the woman he considered almost his mother had grown lonely in his distraction.

Following Eric's stare, Derek and Hans looked over their shoulders at the physician. Had they not been so engaged tending to the now-sleeping princess, it is very likely that one of them would have stood and ushered the lingering man out of the room.

"Doctor …" the Captain began, a heated and impatient tone clear in his voice.

Stepping back, Østerby took his hat and stepped over to the doorway and young soldier who had brought him there. "Prince Eric, once again I beg your pardon for this unfortunate turn of events, especially given the young Princess's justifiable fears, and hope that you shall continue to retain my services."

Eric returned his words with an uncharacteristically quiet and dismissive nod.

"Good day my Prince … Princess Ariel." he said, then turned to find himself facing a quite stolid Aubrey Beauclerk. Much to his surprise, Nils had nearly forgotten that Lord Grimsby was even there. A look of puzzlement crossed the physician's face. Almost as an afterthought he added "Milord."

Then with a bow to Prince Eric and the Princess followed by a polite flourish of his hat, the Physician departed the room with his escort.

A brief quiet ensued as the tension broke and everyone in the room save Ariel breathed a sigh of relief.

Lying hidden beneath a rich plush chair in the far eastern corner of the room, a terrified Max shivered … and whined.


	11. Chapter 9 - A Vanishing Quiet

**_Publication Date: _**_Unknown (Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 9 – A Vanishing Quiet**

**~Being All About Ariel ... From the Hearts of Those Who Love Her~**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 2:00 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Out upon the channel and far beyond the colonnade of Christiansborg Palace, little whitecaps began to array themselves along the long curve of Prince Frederick's Bay. Almost imperceptibly they rose at first, being driven inward toward the shore by a breeze that had sprung up from the north Caribbean Sea, the same breeze that had freshened ever since mid-morning. Mounting up in long slender rows they came, such that were any to have looked out upon the changing morning sea their pale crests might have called to mind ranks of blue-clad soldiers marked with plumes of white, marching into battle beneath a cloudless azure sky. In toward the palace their legions strode, mounting ever higher until waters that had just hours before stretched to the horizon in a sheet of placid turquoise now grew restless, darkening the bay into something more gray and uncertain.

"Prince's Bay" it was called and had been since scores of Danish craftsmen had built the Christiansborg upon its margin many years before. Some denizens of the isles remembered the old name for it though, and out of either habit or sheer defiance refused to honor the new.

The shallow waters of Prince's Bay lay beyond a strand of fine sands of gold and white; a shore secluded from the rest of the island by sheer rock cliffs, and it was at the easternmost end of the bay that the great palace stood. From what had once been a natural outcropping of golden stone it rose, a small peninsula which had mostly been hewn and blasted out in the building of the palace; its ghosts still seen not only in the long sloping of the land down to that point, but in the golden hued stone of the palace itself.

As far as one could see both east and west along the shore lay the estate of the Prince, encompassing in its breadth four little bays of which the Prince's Bay was third most easterly. It was a fief that comprised a private demesne for the young man who ruled not only the Isles, but all their trade as well under the terms of the Arrangement. That the young man's given name was actually Christian Frederick mattered only to a few, for it was under his chosen name of Eric that he reigned, and by which his subjects knew him. His was a happy rule for the most part, for Eric's hand was light and the Isles, at least those that were still left to him, mostly governed their own affairs.

The shores of those bays had for long been his private retreat, indeed they had been his and his alone since even before he had first visited the isles nearly a decade before. With his father Prince Frederick he had come, first as an enthusiastic guest and later as a would-be explorer, but after the events of 1801 and 1802, Eric found himself compelled to remain not as a guest, but as a resident, possibly in perpetuity. Indeed, were one to have closely inspected the terms of the Arrangement, one might have been drawn to the surprising conclusion that Prince Christian Frederick was actually a prisoner of sorts, albeit … a most comfortable one.

By the early afternoon, the same freshening breeze that drove the marching seas out upon the bay found its way through the doors of the guest room balcony. For a while it busied itself in diaphanous curtains at the balcony's sides, teasing them into a subtle dance round each other before it finally stole across the room. Briefly it tickled at the back of the prince's neck before it finally tired and slipped away, then came at last to play within the loose tresses of the sleeping princess's hair. For all gathered there, even she, it proved a refreshment against the incessant and still growing heat of the day.

Together at the northwest corner of the bed the Prince sat with his Princess, the maiden leaning almost upright against the young man's chest and nestled safely within his arms. It was a moment of vanishing quiet that had proven welcome to Eric if for no other reason than that it had ended the odd confusion and cacophony of the day's earlier conversations. It seemed to last forever, that moment, with only the little wind disturbing its silence.

For who knows how long, minutes perhaps, Eric just sat there like that, holding and caressing his fiancée as though she could feel his loving touch in her sleep. Perhaps he held her so out of hope that he might somehow forestall what awful memories and dreams that this day might bring; for of those Ariel already had enough, dreams that troubled her from her ordeal with the Witch and the days that had preceded it. Her face now lay so close to Eric's that he couldn't help but to look at her, this young woman whom he hoped and prayed would soon become his wife.

_"A mermaid."_ he thought and smiled, then slowly shook his head as though he could _still_ hardly believe this simple yet incredible fact about Ariel, let alone that his love was actually there and safe with him, this despite the many hardships and dangers they had both faced just be together. It was a quiet truth Eric had to remind himself of every day, sometimes several times a day, that this all _wasn't just some dream_. It was _real_, for she was there lying in his arms, and beyond all belief and chance he felt as though she loved him every bit as much as he loved her. And Eric's love for Ariel … was _boundless_.

As he looked upon her, the young prince saw that his little mermaid's face had grown peaceful now, and so unlike it had been when he had first seen her that morning. Eric wanted to give her that peace, wanted to let her sleep. He looked over to Sael and then Carlson, and each in turn looked up at him noting that his attention had shifted to them. Each had kept his quiet while the Prince had sat there holding the Princess, respectful of his time with Ariel as they tended her still-bleeding leech bites.

"How is she?" Eric asked quietly.

Carlson looked to Sael, then to Eric. "There seems to have been no bodily harm done to her, though the bite wounds could bleed for hours. No thanks to our good Doctor."

Hans nodded in apparent agreement. "Well, if it's jus' me a sayin', I fer one am glad tha' lubber is gone, an' a good riddance to 'im." Hans said, "Didn' care none a' all 'fer his beside manner."

Derek nodded. "I can't say that I disagree, Hans. Eric, does she still feel warm to you?"

Eric nodded as he considered Carlson's question, noting that Ariel _did_ still seem a little warm, with her fair skin dryer than normal, though not so much as before. She had cooled notably since he had brought her inside, when she was afire and parched from the morning sun. Eric shook his head slowly, "She's cooler now, though a little warm still. She may need something more to drink when she wakes." he said, looking to Carlotta.

As she had stood behind the three men earlier, Carlotta had found herself in a moment of confusion, and Carlotta Grimaldi was a woman who was very seldom if ever _confused_. The Housekeeper felt terribly for Ariel and would have been at the girl's side in a heartbeat had the Princess not already been surrounded by three men who obviously cared deeply about her. Though she knew and trusted Captain Carlson from his past three years of service with the Prince's Household, she hardly knew this _Master Sael_, having only heard mention of him in passing as a certain "Hans" when Eric would regale her and Aubrey with the tales of his voyages. Watching now though, how tenderly the old sailor cared for her little girl, Carlotta couldn't help but be both moved and impressed, but also dismayed by the red stains spreading across the back of the man's torn shirt. She was going to do something about that soon.

What Carlotta had felt most conflicted about were the men's misgivings concerning Doctor Østerby. Yes, she too was angry, even livid at first that the Physician had frightened Ariel so badly, but he hadn't meant to, had he? More importantly, he had tried so _hard _afterwards to amend the terrible situation and comfort the poor girl that he had finally succeeded in calming Ariel enough to complete her treatment. She would be well now, with no edema or whatever the man had said troubling her any longer.

"There should be more water outside in the Gallery and the east guest room. It's well past luncheon now too and I'm sure the poor dear hasn't had a bite to eat today." Carlotta replied, looking up and stepping past Privates Lund and Thomsen, who had at some point returned to their posts. She found this curious, having not remembered the men either leaving the room or being dismissed, but otherwise paid it no mind. What she did notice was the conspicuous absence of a certain Aubrey Beauclerk. _"Oh! Where has that man gone?" _she wondered with more than a little irritation.

"I'll be right back." she said in a kind voice to Eric and the others as she stepped out onto the Gallery, but her smile faded the moment she passed the bedchamber door. Stepping out of the room Carlotta felt a wave of terrible guilt well up within her, one that she had tried to hold at bay until now; guilt that she had not explained to Ariel what the alternative to the instrument the Doctor had offered actually _was_. In fact, that Ariel might actually need to be _bled_ in some way had not even _occurred_ to the Housekeeper before Nils arrives, and his kind and gentlemanly manner had left the Carlotta feeling quite comfortable with what he was doing. Nils _was_ a Doctor and a gentleman after all, and a very _handsome_ gentleman at that, she smiled, caressing her left hand … without quite being aware of it.

But why hadn't she intervened more forcefully when Ariel had become so fearful? Grimaldi raised her hand to her eyes, wiping away her tears, then reached down to the tray of fresh water and ice. Much to her dismay she found that while the silver pitcher remained quite cold, the ice had mostly melted, yet she had left it filled with crushed ice when she had returned to Ariel's room. How long … _had it been_?

"We need to let her rest … _I_ need to let her rest." Lowering his lips Eric kissed the sleeping girl softly on her left temple, then realized that she was still sitting upright, her legs tucked neatly beneath her. That wouldn't do. At the very least he would make her comfortable. "Hans, Derek, I'm going to lift her and lay her down so that she can rest more comfortably."

The Captain nodded and slowly stood, reaching for a fresh handkerchief and handing another to Sael.

"Aye, tha' I can." Hans said, looking sidelong to Carlson. "Have ta' do it quick less'n she get blood on tha' pretty dress o' hers."

"Is she still bleeding much?" Eric asked, looking back to the sailor.

Derek quickly looked to Hans, then reaching over carefully lifted the edges of the handkerchief the old salt was tending to inspect the other two bite wounds. Finding them still bleeding he seemed to compare all four, pressing upon them at their edges with experienced fingers. For a moment Hans thought he heard the Captain whisper something under his breath then looked up to see the soldier open his eyes. Looking back Derek smiled at the old man, "Nothing like a little prayer now and then to wash away one's sins, eh Hans?"

Hans, not necessarily being much inclined to prayer, nevertheless nodded and smiled. "Ay, canna' hurt I s'pose, no' given tha' Hell the poor maid ha' been through t'day."

"Her bleeding has slackened quite a bit, sire." Carlson instead answered the prince. "But Master Hans is right, you'll need to lift her quickly, so we can keep a tight press on all four bites."

Carlotta stepped quietly back into the room, replacing the previously used tray, pitcher and glasses with a fresh one.

Looking to the Housekeeper, Eric continued, "Carlotta, I'm going to lay her down, would you turn back the bedcovers?"

The Housekeeper nodded seeing what Eric was preparing to do, then leaving the trays on the nightstand slipped down to the lower side of the girl's bed beside the gathered men. In a smooth motion she neatly pulled back the bed's soft blanket and sheets.

Eric nodded to the men. "Ready?" he asked again almost in a whisper. Seeing the two nod and Carlotta take her position, Eric crouched beside Ariel and slipped his hands slowly beneath her motionless form. Then with the gentlest of motions he lifted her, keeping her head resting against his shoulder and taking great care that his movements remain smooth. Lowering her then, he laid her slender body upon the soft mattress of her bed and her head upon her silken pillow, causing her to stir slightly and murmur for just a moment. Then as smoothly as he had lifted his fiancée, he now gingerly slipped his arms back out from under her knees and shoulders and allowed her to settle softly back into sleep.

As Eric finished, Carlotta took Ariel's folded legs into her hands and slowly drew them outward and down the bed, extending them until the girl's bare feet and toes pointed to the ceiling. Again, the girl stirred only slightly in response, for she was now deeply asleep. As a final measure Grimaldi turned the covers up to Ariel's waist as Hans kept up the pressure on the girl's wounds. Sael noticed that her bleeding indeed seemed to have slowed substantially which surprised him. From experience though, Hans knew well not to remove the handkerchiefs he held still at the young woman's neck.

Eric knelt down beside Ariel's bedside as he reached out to stroke her long red tresses and look into her serene face. Though the others couldn't have seen it, for Eric had by then turned away from them, a tear ran down his cheek as his mind once again reeled silently at what had happened to his love today, what had happened to _them_ that he had failed to prevent, and that he had made so much _worse_. Once again, he leaned over and kissed the sleeping girl upon her forehead, desperately wishing now for the day that they would finally wed, when he could at last hold her as closely as his heart desired, and he could chase away all of her nightmares and fears.

No sooner had the four settled Ariel down to sleep when they heard a pathetic whine from behind them. Turning his head Eric sought its source, finally discerning a shape lying in the shadows beneath a plush corner chair near the balcony. All of the others, Jens included, peered over there as well, following Eric's startled glance.

"Max …," he said quietly. "Come here boy." By the frightened tone of the dog's whine Eric immediately knew that something was amiss, for Max only whined so when he was deeply upset ... or afraid.

Out from beneath the chair the dog crawled, and then standing onto all fours came walking slowly over to Eric, his stub of a tail wagging back and forth only slightly and he passed between Carlson and Sael.

"Max, boy, what's wrong?" Eric whispered, reaching out to stroke the trembling sheephound's long white and gray hair. Taking his place between Eric and Ariel, Max looked at the sleeping girl and gave her face a gentle lick, then laid himself on the floor beside her bed and softly whined once again.

"Max …?" Eric asked, looking down to the distraught dog and then back up to Carlson, Hans and Carlotta in puzzlement and dismay. Then looking back down, he tried again, even more gently, "What's gotten into you boy?" he asked. Looking to Ariel the prince frowned for a moment, then smiled hesitantly as he continued, "Ah, I get it. Don't worry boy … she'll be alright." Strangely, the sheephound remained silent and depressed as he lay protectively at the Princess's bedside.

As Hans sat there watching and listening to the goings on beside him while placing fresh handkerchiefs against the sleeping girl's neck, he began to think about the circumstances that had brought him to this point. Here he was, an old seadog, not only inside the palace for the first time in his life, but sitting right beside the Princess herself and tending her wounds. When he had risen that morning, Sael couldn't have possibly even _imagined_ himself in such an incredible situation … yet _here he was_. Had he overstepped his bounds when he daringly took this place by the girl's side? Yes, perhaps, but that was all done with, wasn't it? Yes, she was a _Princess_, but she was still a _girl_ too, just like his little Elna had been, and even less than Eric's age Sael thought. What was important now was that he help Eric and his young love hew their way out of the anti-Gallican hitch that awaited them below.

"Ya' know Eric," the old man started in a hoarse whisper, not wanting to wake the Princess when she so obviously needed to sleep, "I been a' thinkin'."

Eric looked up, still puzzled at the state of his loyal friend. As though unwilling to speak but still desiring Hans' counsel, he stared expectantly at the old sailor, who took the Prince's cue and continued.

"I think if the lads were ta just see ya' fer a bit like yer normal self, it migh' go a' long way to settin' their minds a' ease."

Carlson looked over to the old sailor, his attention now drawn slightly from the two weeping bite wounds on Ariel's neck which he had resumed tending. While his concern had been drawn to the young woman before them, he too had been wondering how the four of them might overcome the doubts and fears of not just the sailors and men on the quay, but those the people of the Isle as a whole must be harboring.

Direct confrontation seemed the wrong approach, but so was remaining where the Princess could not be met or even seen by the people she would one day rule over with Eric. Ariel was still young, but the girl had such a loving and winning manner about her that she couldn't possibly be disliked, let alone hated, if only people could be allowed to _get to know her_.

"What do you suggest?" Eric asked

"Well, they's a'bound ta be good work a' goin' on ou' on th' quay. Ough' ta be getting' ou' they m'self ta' be checkin' up on i'."

Eric looked at the man a bit puzzled. "I hope there is." He said, looking down at Ariel and smiling as he continued to gently stroke her hair with his right hand. "What are you suggesting Hans?"

Hans noticed now that Eric still held the Princess's left hand in his own, though in an even more tender and loving manner than he had before. For a moment Hans considered the rumors about the girl again. It seemed unbelievable to him that she could actually be a mermaid, just like his father had told him of so long ago, but now Hans himself had heard her speak in that beautiful and strange tongue, like words set to song. Thus, if she _was_ a princess in her own right as Eric and everyone else there seemed to believe, what else could this little Ariel be other than a _princess of mermaids_, just as Sael had surmised when he first saw her?

The old salt smiled, happy to see that Eric seemed to have found not only a young woman with whom to share his life, but one who seemed to truly be worthy of not only his love but everything else that the boy had to offer her. But a _mermaid_! Hans grinned to himself. No one would ever believe _that_ sea story. Hans though was eager to find out anything more that he could about the tale, and how this young woman had come into Eric's life.

Sael had sailed with Eric for nearly ten years now since the days on _Najaden_, and he knew him to be a fine young man with a loving heart just waiting to be stolen away by the right girl. From what little Hans had seen of _this_ maiden though, he suspected that Eric was _equally _fortunate. Just watching how the two seemed to have come to depend so deeply and naturally upon one another after only little more than a month convinced the old salt that a love somehow deep and sublime must lay between them.

And it wasn't just the Princess that needed Eric, though that was most certainly the case at the moment. No … Hans could _see_ how much Eric needed _her_, if nothing else than by just by how the boy _looked_ at her, that incredible tenderness in his eyes the likes of which Hans had never before seen. It was so very obvious to the old fellow now; why the boy had been so strong and commanding in the young maiden's defense, again in a way that Hans had seldom if ever before seen him. He had shown the demeanor of a king, a true and valiant king. Now though with the girl sleeping there beside him, Eric was once again just the same dreaming young man Hans had met all those years ago.

"Well, jus' tha' i' migh' do ya' some good ta get yerself out there too an' up them spars, or else jus' be yerself helpin' get _Lyn_ a' ready fer the morrow."

Eric nodded and smiled slightly, understanding now what Hans suggested, and why. "Get out there and let them see that I'm my normal self? Is that what you mean Hans?"

"Aye, tha' be m' tack lad" Hans smiled back. "Get ou' there w' Henrik an' the' men an' puts some good turns on a line 'er two, ge' yerself aloft workin' that splintered mast an' th' yards. Really put yer' back in ta' it like ya' always do." He paused. "Maybe even tweak tha' mule Henrik a bit ta show 'im ya ain't under no spell er such."

"But what about Ari … the Princess, shouldn't she be there too?" Eric asked, now questioning his earlier determination to go alone, not wanting to leave her alone, even with Carlotta, after all that had happened.

"Aye, maybe later, an' I'd let the lass sleep after wha' she's had ta' stomach so far, but I thin' from wha' I saw this morning, ain't nothing she can say tha'll help 'er, on account that th' men has suspicions an' all. Th' only way ta' prove she's innocent o' any darkness is ta' show yer friends jus' by a bein' _yerself_ … tha' they ain't no _witchcraft_ afoot."

"Eric, I agree dear. The poor girl needs to rest, maybe just for a little while like you said earlier." Carlotta interrupted in a polite but motherly voice, now reaching out and placing her hand on Eric's left shoulder. "Why don't you let her sleep for just half an hour or so. I wouldn't be surprised if the poor dear woke up at sunrise this morning to start her day. She must have hardly slept last night at all." Carlotta smiled softly, her expression betraying a mind that was somehow somewhere else in time and place.

"Sunrise!?" Eric paused, a look of shock on his face, "Carlotta, why do you think she was up _that early_?"

"Oh," the Housekeeper smiled sweetly, looking down at the sleeping girl beside her, "Well, we were going to wash her hair this morning before she joined you for your day together."

Eric just stared back at Carlotta, his brow furrowing. "Obviously I'm missing something." Eric wasn't the only one, for both Hans and Derek were also looking at the Housekeeper in obvious confusion.

"You three! Don't you see? Just look at her! The poor dear's hair was perfectly clean, dry, and brushed out when I first saw her this morning." She paused, realizing she would have to explain what was so obvious to her to the three ignorant men.

"I wake Ariel almost every morning around seven to help her get ready for her day, sometimes earlier, but today I let her sleep in after _you_ kept her up so late last night Eric." Carlotta laughed softly, her sparkling eyes rising to meet Eric's for just a moment before returning to Ariel. "But she wasn't in her room when I came today." she added, a regretful sadness barely audible in her voice.

Eric and Carlson looked at each other and then to Hans, each obviously hoping the other was following the Housekeeper's line of thought. It was obvious to each that they were equally lost in the woman's line of reasoning.

"Well, she must have washed and dried her hair all by herself of course! And dressed herself mind you."

Eric nodded. "Yes, but Carlotta, I still don't see how that means she must have risen so early."

"Oh, Eric! Don't you know that it takes her two, sometimes even three _hours_ to get that beautiful mane of hers washed, dried, and just a little under control?" The Housekeeper smiled sweetly at the sleeping girl, then at Eric. "And she does it every three days or so by the way … _just_ for _you_."

The blood drained slightly from Eric's face as he counted back the hours in his head. "Oh." he paused, looking down at his bride-to-be, "Tha … I had no idea Carlotta." The young man looked down at Ariel with no small amount of awe in his eyes as he reached out and caressed her face and hair.

Carlson and Sael looked at each other, sharing a grin as they too found a surprising and sweet end to the Housekeeper's observations. It was definitely not something that they or Eric would have ever thought of.

Carlotta paused, letting her words sink in with her boy, then went on. "Those washing days are the ones I make you wait until later in the mornings before you can start your day … and I get to have a little time of my own with the dear." The Housekeeper smiled proudly as she looked back to Ariel. "She does love the water so …" The Housekeeper smiled and laughed softly again at her dumbfounded prince and shook her head. "Eric, I hope you make it a point to compliment her about it then, after all of the effort she goes to for you. It can't be easy for her after all, learning to be human."

A broad grin crossed Hans' face as he looked over to Derek Carlson and saw the Housekeeper's words reflected in the slight nod the Captain returned him. _"That's it, a mermaid she is!" _Hans thought gleefully, insufferably pleased with himself at having known the truth all along. The old sailor beamed like a new grandfather.

Now at least at _this_, Eric knew he had _no_ reason to feel guilty. One omission he was certain that he had never committed with Ariel was failing to tell her how lovely she was, how she was always in his thoughts and what those thoughts _were_. It was almost as though he couldn't help himself, telling and sometimes teasing her about how wonderful he found her hair, her eyes, and everything else that he could somehow politely express his delight in. In fact, he usually made her blush furiously when he did so and sometimes even embarrassed her. It was as though his former little mermaid really had no idea of how beautiful she was, and not just in her lovely appearance, either. Eric absolutely loved that about her.

Usually he made sure he emphasized the truth of his words with the softest of kisses, which Ariel always seemed to be happy and even eager to return with equal tenderness. Other thoughts and gestures would have to await their wedding night, but they were there as well … and no less true.

That his little mermaid went to such _effort_ for his sake though, it simply amazed him … and made him feel not only deeply, even profoundly, happy; but also more than a little bit guilty. He found himself looking at the sleeping girl, this young woman who was to be wife and was surprised to feel his heart pounding. He wondered how he could ever return _that_ sort of love, the sort of self-sacrificing love that had brought her to him in the first place.

"For what it is worth Sire, I agree with Mistress Carlotta and Master Hans." Derek added, drawing another fresh napkin to replace the blood soaked one he had for the past few minutes held at Ariel's throat. "The Princess needs to sleep as you said before." He stopped for a moment as he gingerly replaced his now scarlet napkin with a fresh white one, taking great care to not wake the girl beside him.

"I think that Hans is right about you getting out and among the men." He continued. "Let them see you out among them, being yourself. The _Lyns_ have been away at sea for weeks now. All that they've had to go on about you and Princess Ariel are the very same rumors they carried away with them when they left. At least my men have seen you and the Princess strolling and talking around the Palace and grounds, and more than a few had the opportunity to dance with her. Believe me, none of _the Guard _doubts her now."

Eric listened quietly and smiled as he remembered the night weeks ago when one of Ariel's explorations had led her to the Barracks of all places. She had danced and sung half the night with the rowdy soldiers before Eric had found her there singing and laughing in the Barracks' common room, all the while having been under the watchful eye of both the Captain and even more formidable Sergeant Lundgren. After Carlson had spoken, Eric nodded and smiled softly, then looked to Carlotta.

"Carlotta, please take care of her and if at all possible bring her out to the dock when you think she is ready, but if she needs to rest until tomorrow, please let her." Eric gently kissed Ariel's left hand before laying it upon her breast. "I know I don't need to tell you this; her well-being comes first, but _I've_ got to get out there again. If she wakes and is able to come but needs help walking, then either of the soldiers here can assist." Eric looked to the doorway, then stepped over to Carlotta, reaching out and wrapping both of his arms around her.

If anything could have made the Housekeeper blush at that moment it was her boy's loving embrace … and it did.

"I love you Lottie," he whispered, "That hasn't changed, and I'm sorry if I've been preoccupied with Ariel. _We_ need a little time together too, _don't we_?"

Carlotta smiled back at Eric, wrapping her arms around him in return and patting him on his back like she used to when he would come to her so upset years ago. She struggled to blink back fresh tears that now welled up in her eyes. "Oh, Eric … I know that!" she whispered lovingly, "You're doing _just the right thing_. The poor dear needs as much love and attention as you can give her, as we _all _can give her; it has to be so hard for her." She paused. "I'm so proud of you Eric, and _you know_ that I love you too, with _all of my heart_. We'll have time, just you wait and see!"

Eric smiled back at Carlotta as both gradually relaxed their embrace.

Turning back to Ariel, he knelt gently at her bedside and kissed the sleeping maiden on her forehead, all the while caressing her face with his right hand. "Come to me if you can love, but if you can't, I swear … I _will make this right_ for you." Then he paused and closed his eyes. If he prayed, it was a silent prayer for not even a whisper strayed from his lips. That is, not until he whispered his final words to his dream who now lay beneath him. _"… I love you." _

Eric stood slowly then, never letting his eyes leave Ariel. He hoped he could be with her again soon, but something had to be done about this impasse _now_, and maybe Hans and Carlson were right, the answer for now must lay with _him_, not Ariel. These were _his_ people, after all.

"Derek, Ariel will _hate_ it but I want her escorted _wherever she goes_ until we can settle this with Henrik and the others." Eric shook his head in dismay. "I never thought that this day would come but I didn't like how some of them looked at her down there, _Henrik especially_. I need to know for sure that she's safe when I can't be with her."

"Do you wish me to stay here with her then, Eric?" the Captain replied.

Eric thought for a moment, then shook his head, "No, I'm going to need you outside. She should be safe up here. Of course that was what I thou ..." Eric's words came to a sudden stop as a puzzled look filled his eyes. "Why … why did I say that?" he said quietly, looking back up at Captain.

Carlson returned his gaze, sharing his puzzlement. "Say? Say what Eric? You're right, I'm sure she'll be quite safe here. The Doctor frightened her, but no real harm came to her? She'll be fine." But Carlson too now felt that there was something to what Eric had said, had begun to say. Something seemed odd … amiss.

Eric nodded in reply, then looked sternly down at Max. "Max, stay with her boy. Take good care of Ariel and Lottie. Promise?"

Max looked up at the prince and their blue eyes met. If a dog could nod, Eric could have sworn that was exactly what Max did after Eric spoke to him, accompanying the gesture with a low "_woof_."

At this Eric smiled, bending down to his longtime and loyal friend and gave the sheephound a good solid neck rub and scratch behind the ears, to which Max happily arched his back and craned his head in appreciation. "Good boy!" the prince finished before standing again and striding off through the door.

"Guess i' be a time ta' be goin' then." Hans added, looking at the Captain, having carefully watched and listened to the others' conversations with no small amount of curiosity regarding his young prince's _other life … _and that of this pretty little_ mermaid_.

Sael and Carlson made way for Carlotta now, surrendering their watch over Ariel's bleeding bite wounds to the Housekeeper. The two men stood quickly, each taking a glimpse at the sleeping Princess and nodding respectfully to Carlotta as they left the room.

As he did so, Carlson turned to the two soldiers who saluted him just as they had the departing Prince. "Private Lund, Private Thomsen, the Princess is to have an escort wherever she goes, either you or your reliefs. Her life _may_ be under threat, though we cannot be certain, so I wish you to exercise the greatest degree of caution with her. If possible though, try not to impede her unless the need is both immediate and obvious. Oh … watch her carefully around stairs, edges, and other places where she might lose her footing; you'll need to stay close at her side in such circumstances."

Both soldiers nodded and saluted once again. Carlson returned the honor with a respectful nod to the men. He turned on his heel and quickly followed Sael down the stairs, his fading boot steps muffled by the rich purple carpet.

The Housekeeper nodded and smiled as the men departed, knowing now that the girl would finally have some respite from the storm she had endured since that morning. Letting loose the handkerchiefs for a short moment, Carlotta slipped her hands under the blankets of Ariel's bed and neatly folded them across the girl's breast, then sat upon the edge of the bed and began to gently stroke the sleeping maiden's hair as she tended her wounds. Somehow, Carlotta Grimaldi just knew then that this was going to turn out for the better, or at least … she dearly hoped that it would.


	12. Chapter 10 - The Concerns of Good Men

**_Publication Date:_**_ Sunday, June 7th, 2015 (Minor Emendations: Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 10 – The Concerns of Good Men**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 2:30 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

The Guest Gallery was a grand walkway-cum-balcony overlooking the inner second floor of the Guest Tower, the structure that dominated the northern extents of the Christiansborg Slot. It was not the only such structure in the palace, and like the rest of the original construction that had begun thirty years before, it had been built with an intention to impress the anticipated guests of Prince Frederick, then the Regent of Denmark, in what was to be his far-flung Antillean demesne. Thus the Gallery commanded a sweeping view of the lower landings that looked south out upon the Ballroom, a view that was especially beautiful when the glorious golden light of morning filled the lower hall.

The coup that deposed Prince Frederick as regent disrupted his plans however, and the tumultuous birth of the French Republic in 1792 set into motion the unfortunate chain of events that ultimately lead to the _Arrangement_ between Denmark and Great Britain in 1802 that followed in the aftermath of the disastrous Battle of Copenhagen. The battle had been disastrous for the Danes, and it would not be the last of its kind which bore that name. To be more precise, these events led to a series of succession agreements between certain powerful _interests _within those two countries, secret agreements, in the midst of which was now caught up a certain Danish Prince who had been their very object.

Aside from several voyages to and from the Isles with his son Christian in the years after the completion of the palace, Prince Frederick had never realized his dream of a private demesne in the West Indies, if indeed that had truly been ever been his dream at all rather than merely a condition of his removal from the Regency without the associated removal of his head. His son Christian, however, did realize that dream, and in the middle of 1802 took up an enduring residency in the grand palace on the north shore of Sankt Croix, a tiny island grown rich off of its trade in sugar. He was fifteen years old.

It was this same Gallery into which Eric strode as he departed the Princess's bedchamber for the quay and dock below. A hallway extended north from it, separating the upper guest suites, the westernmost of which was currently occupied by the Princess as it had been since her arrival. The rooms' doors stood nearly opposite one another, staggered slightly for some reason only the architect of the Christiansborg would have known. A balcony surrounded the open floor that looked down upon a hallway below, the same hallway that led out onto the spectacular skywalk of the palace and to its ornamental bathhouse. The doorway of the Princess's bedchamber was just to the west of this balcony.

As before, Jens Lund and Anders Thomsen stood silently on watch outside the room, the two privates saluting sharply upon the Prince's departure, whereupon Eric stopped, turned, and nodded just as he had done before disappearing down the stairs earlier that morning.

This time one of the men attempted to speak however, to whisper actually, but his voice caught in his throat. Before Private Lund could try again, Carlson and Sael emerged from the Princess's bedchamber whereupon the Captain turned to the two soldiers, interrupting Lund in whatever he was about to say to the Prince with a whispered command.

"Private Lund, Private Thomsen, the Princess is to have an escort wherever she goes, either you or your reliefs. Her _life_ may be under threat, though we cannot be certain, so I wish you to exercise the greatest degree of caution with her. If possible though, try not to impede her unless the need is both immediate and obvious. Oh … watch her carefully around stairs, edges, and other places where she might lose her footing; you'll need to stay close at her side in such circumstances."

Both soldiers nodded and saluted once again. Carlson returned the honor with a respectful nod to the men. He turned on his heel and quickly followed Sael down the stairs, his fading boot steps muffled by the rich purple carpet.

"Captain … Prince Eric!" Lund called out.

The Captain had just rounded corner of the hall and was approaching the newel of the gallery, his hand clasping its finial as hastened to join the Prince. On the landing below where he had stopped to wait for Derek and Hans, Eric looked up to the sound of the voice, then to Carlson and Sael behind him.

Private Lund stepped down the hall and out to the balustrade, continuing in a hushed voice not quite a whisper. "Lord Grimsby ordered us to take our places at the door when he departed, and permit no entry to the Doctor if he returned. He said to sound the alarm were that to happen but to otherwise alert you _only_ when you left the Princess's bedchamber and that she was not to be further troubled."

Glancing at Carlson, Eric could see the Captain's counsel without even the exchange of words, the two soldiers needed to be heard out. He hastened back up the stair then joined the other four on the Galley platform before the hallway to the upper guestrooms. Wary that their voices might be heard and unduly alarm Mistress Carlotta or awaken her charge, Carlson stepped back into the Princess's bedchamber, his head turning to the Housekeeper.

Carlotta looked to the door from her place at the Princess's side, noting the Captain's quiet return with surprise. She looked at him as though to ask if something was amiss. For just a second Derek lingered, looking to Princess Ariel who lay there abed, still fast asleep. Sighing, he finally turned his gaze back to Mistress Grimaldi and nodded to her respectfully with a polite smile as though to say all was well, then quietly drew the door shut behind him.

"Sound the alarm?! About Doctor Østerby?" Eric asked the soldier quietly, confusion and concern filling his eyes.

"Yes sire."

"And he said nothing else other than what you told us?"

"No sire. Not a word."

"Je … Private Lund, did Lord Grimsby say where he was going and why?" Eric continued as Carlson rejoined them.

"To the Great Library and your offices sire, though he said nothing of the reason." Lund replied.

Eric looked to Carlson then Hans. "Hans, I have to see what this is about, it has me concerned. Grim would have stayed nearby unless some need presented itself. We always meet in the _Guest Library_ when we're in this wing, just like during the raids. This is unusual."

"Aye Eric, and wha' wou' ya' like' o me?" Hans replied, raising his right eyebrow.

"I need you to get out to the dock, see how Lyn and the preparations are coming along. I'll be out as soon as possible, I know it's later than I planned, a lot later, but something … something is wrong." Eric replied, furrowing his brow as he seemed to focus upon the troubling feeling that danced at the edge of his awareness.

Hans nodded. "Aye lad. I'll be seein' ta' it. Will tha' good Captain be comin?" he followed, an almost hopeful tone in his voice.

Eric shook his head. "No, I need him to come with me, but we'll be back out there as soon as possible."

Hans nodded again. Then his hat in his hands, looked up to Eric and smiled. "Tha' be a right pretty little fish ya' caught yerself Eric. I'm a proud o' ya. By ol' Hans' reckonin' she deserves the very best; an' fer tha' you'll do jus' fine. Ta' be sure, I promise tha'll be jus' what you an' she'll get from the ol' Seadog too."

Eric smiled and laughed softly at Hans' choice of words, then realized that not only he but also both soldiers must have overheard Carlotta's slip inside the room, the door having been wide open during the whole conversation.

"Well, to be honest Hans, I would say that we _caught _each other. But _thank you_, and yes, she _is_ pretty, isn't she?" Eric added wistfully, almost speaking to himself as much as to Hans as he looked back to the Princess's doorway. "… In so many ways I can't even begin to tell you." A second or two passed as Eric just stared at it, remembering how its twin lanceted arches had simply dwarfed his little Ariel as she had stood within them last night, when he had kissed her and sent her off to bed, a look of pure wonder lingering in her sparkling blue eyes from the lovely evening they had shared.

Hans smiled brightly at Eric's reply, not sure whether the prince's last words had been either question or musing. "Aye tha' she be' lad, tha' she be. Prettiest lily this side o' Eden I'd say."

Then with a spring in his step he turned and disappeared around the landing and down the stairs, singing a tune Eric couldn't quite place as he went. The old man's steps echoed below as his sudden refrain came welling up through the stairwell, rich in its tone, harsh in its gravelly voice. Gradually, it faded away.

Eric was left alone with the Captain and two guards, smiling at Hans' last remark. _"A lily."_ he thought. Then considering Ariel's hair, thought _"Maybe more like a rose."_ It was something he would have to think about. Carlson looked over to the prince, a quizzical look in his eyes. Returning Derek's look with one of gentle resignation, Eric addressed the two young men, both more or less his own age, but spoke now in Danish. "Jens, Anders … may I ask what you heard?"

"Sire?" It was Jens that replied first, not understanding the meaning of the question. The soldier's eyes were caged forward, but at times his pupils would venture sideways to look at Carlson before returning to the Prince. It wasn't often that the young man spoke to Eric outside of their morning training.

Watching the man, Eric realized he had taken Jens by surprise with his question, and probably Anders too, but he had to know. "From our conversations in the room with the Doctor, and then later among ourselves after he left."

"Sire, begging your pardon, we heard quite a lot of things." Jens paused, seemingly. His lips and mouth twitched as he started to say something then stopped, seeming almost in a private debate with himself. "Could you be more specific?" he finally asked.

"About the Princess."

"Ah, yes sire." Jens said, his eyes focusing on Eric now, seeing as he was being addressed. "Well, there was most of it about her being unwell and afraid, and then some about those misfortunes that took place outside this morning."

"Yes, and …?"

Private Lund looked over to Thomsen then back to Eric, hesitation in his eyes, "… and something about … learning to be human." Through the conversation his voice that had begun in a hush had lowered to just a whisper.

Eric returned his gaze, then looked down to the carpet below furrowed his brow in thought, as though he was weighing some consideration. Raising his eyes, he brought his right hand to the back of his neck, then looked back to Carlson. "Jens, Anders, do you trust the Princess?" he asked.

"Why … yes sire." Thomsen replied this time, his brows arching in surprise, "Is there a reason that we shouldn't?"

"No of course not, that's not what I meant. Of course you can trust her, with your very lives if need be."

The men stared back at him, confusion in their eyes. "Lives sire?" Jens asked, not understanding where Eric was going. Anders stood by silently, listening with his eyes caged at an invisible point somewhere far across the atrium though occasionally faltering and glancing at his partner and the Prince.

"What I am about to tell you is the most important secret that I keep, and mustn't be heard by _anyone_ to whom I do not personally reveal it. Captain Carlson knows already, and I'll not have Princess Ariel's life endangered further by loose tongues, do I make myself clear?"

Both men nodded in reply. "Yes, sire." they said, Jens shortly before his partner. Both considered that it was quite unusual for the Prince to speak in such a directive and commanding way, given his normally relaxed and casual demeanor.

"Good. I'll have your word of honor though before I do."

It was an odd request for a Prince to make of a soldier, especially a lowly private, for among the upper classes there was considerable doubt that such a class of men could even possess something resembling a gentleman's honor. Yet the Prince had asked them for their word, so it seemed that they must indeed possess it … at least in the Prince's estimation. That was more than enough reassurance for Jens.

"You have my word sire, I'll speak of it to no one." Lund whispered back

"Me neither sire. My lips are sealed." Thomsen added, following his partner's lead.

"Very well." Eric paused. He looked first at Jens then at Anders, his eyes focusing on each until all else went silent. Jens could hear his heart thumping in his chest as the Prince's eyes held his own and his Thomsen's, looking for any sign of duplicity or falseness. Apparently, his searching revealed none.

"Princess Ariel is a mermaid." Eric stopped to let the last three words sink in.

Both of the men stared back at him, then to each other and the Captain, not quite dumbfounded, but still shocked as though Eric had unexpectedly confirmed some untold suspicion. If nothing else, this reaction alone told Eric something vital; Ariel's secret that he had asked her to keep not just for her own sake, but for that of her people … was no longer quite a secret. It was out, and possibly even common knowledge.

It was true as he and Grimsby had feared, there had been too many who had seen her the night of that false wedding now many weeks passed. Apparently, no one had forgotten either, at least these two men of his own bodyguard hadn't. Added to vaguer and fouler rumors that the Captain and senior soldiers of the Guard had reported to him, the same ones he and Ariel had confronted earlier this day, this posed a problem, if only because this rumor was _true_.

"A mermaid, sire?" Jens asked, his brows raised slightly with an almost boyish smile filling his face and eyes.

Eric nodded. "Yes. The youngest daughter of Triton, the Lord of the Seas himself."

"Then it's true, what the men who stood watch on the wedding barge have been saying?" Anders added. "They're not just legends and sea stories, then … they're real, and she's, she's a princess of their kind?"

Again Eric nodded in reply, continuing his earlier thought. "_That_ rumor is true, so yes, she's a mermaid … or rather, she _was_ a mermaid." Eric smiled in amusement, seeing the puzzlement in the two men's faces gradually replaced by looks of curiosity and wonder. "The Merfolk are real enough, King Triton is real enough, though we don't know much about them yet save that in many ways they're very much like us; if you can believe that."

"But the Princess sire … she _was _a mermaid? Jens asked, emphasizing that Eric had spoken this as a past truth.

Eric nodded. "Princess Ariel is now as human as you or I, but she's only just beginning to learn our ways and customs. She is very much a princess; but also more clever, curious and impulsive than you might expect. Trust me … _you'll_ see." A lopsided grin stretched across his face as his eyebrows rose and just as quickly dropped. "I'm afraid it's hard to explain unless you get to know her. Just so you understand though, the reason Princess Ariel sometimes has trouble walking and getting about and such is that for all but these last few weeks she had a tail instead of legs." Eric smiled wistfully, his mind now another place and another time. "A beautiful tail … green, almost a hue of emerald … maybe a pale jade."

Jens stared straight ahead, trying to take in this sudden revelation, doing his best to exercise a proper respect for a prince he knew would rather wrestle with him than see him standing at attention. But it wasn't Prince Eric or Captain Carlson the young soldier was afraid of, it was Sergeant Lundgren. If the ogre of a sergeant ever caught any of the men failing to pay proper respect to the young prince, even in the midst of _this_ fantastic conversation, there would be no evenings in town for weeks, and worse, that man would be assigned the most odious duties imaginable.

Snapping out of his reverie, Eric looked back to the two men. "I'm trying to give her time to learn, to be happy and comfortable before we marry. And I need your help … she needs your help. This day hasn't gone well for her I'm afraid, for either of us really."

"What can we do sire?" Jens asked, taken aback that the Prince was asking for his help. The way Eric had said it, it was almost an entreaty from a friend rather than an order from his sovereign, an appeal to a special trust of the heart.

"Keep her secret safe and look after her when I can't, just as Captain Carlson said before." Eric smiled at the two men and then Derek. "She's not going to like being guarded, being followed around, not one bit. She's not used to being watched over where she comes from and it goes against her nature." He sighed.

"I've been able to be with her almost constantly during her days since she first came to us, but I can't be for the next few hours. I have to be realistic, and as much as I regret it, I won't be able to spend every moment at her side. So you two are it, her guardians, you along with the Captain, Sergeant Lundgren, and Master Sael." Eric paused, caught up in some thought as he rubbed his chin. "Oh, and you'll have better luck if you're personable with her."

"Personable. But sire, she's … she's a _princess_."

"And I'm a _prince_; that doesn't stop you from sparring with me, shoving my face in the sand when I make a mistake, does it?" Eric laughed, his hand going to his right ear for some reason only he and maybe the Private knew.

"Well, but no, but that's different sire … she's a _lady_, a _princess_. We'll not be _sparring_ with her."

"Of course not. Well, not _physically _at least." Eric smiled knowingly. "Just treat her with respect and try not to be too formal with her when you don't have to keep up appearances, act more like her brother or friend. She'll like that more and maybe won't try to slip away. And if you answer her questions … well, she'll _love that_." Eric chuckled, thinking of his sweetheart's unequaled enthusiasm for learning _everything_.

The prince paused, again rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "Jens, I know there's nothing to worry about with you and Anders here, but be careful of compromising situations and appearances. In fact, it's best if you take Mistress Grimaldi with you when you venture outside and about. I'll speak to her. The Princess has gone through enough already and she doesn't need that sort of nonsense to add to her pain. Does that help?"

After a moment of contemplation, both young men looked at each other briefly then returned their eyes to the Prince and nodded. "Yes sire." they added in unison.

"Do either of you have any questions?"

There was a quiet pause, as both men stood silent before him.

"Good. But if you do the Captain and Sergeant Lundgren know more." Eric looked to Carlson, who stood following his words in silence. "Feel free to speak to me too if the need arises and be sure to let one of us know the instant even a hint of trouble shows. You'll be among those on _Lyn_ tomorrow, and if all goes well you'll learn more then."

"Yes, sire." Privates Lund and Thomsen came to attention in an instant, each rendering their Prince a sharp hand salute against his musket.

Eric stepped to the elegant marble-topped table that stood between the grandfather clock amid the north wall and the doorway of the Western Guestroom. Opening a slender drawer at its center, he drew forth a sheet of paper, a pen and a small glass jar of ink. Opening the jar and wetting the nib of the pen, he quickly wrote out a short letter, then reaching back into the drawer, drew out a small blotter to finish it. As a final measure he produced an envelope from the desk which he also briefly wrote upon, signed and blotted dry as the four men watched. After waiting for a moment, he neatly folded the letter, kissing it after he did so, and slipped it into the envelope.

"Jens, please give this to the Princess when she leaves her room." he said, handing the envelope to the Private. "Also, please exercise discretion and care when speaking about this and particularly about _her_ among yourselves. I'm sure you know what I mean." Returning their salutes with a solemn nod of his head, Eric looked to Derek Carlson and the two hastened to the landing and down the stairs.

Carlson looked back over his shoulder to the men as he stepped after the Prince. "A change of orders then. No reliefs when she's out and about from her room, at least until we can inform other men we can be sure to trust. Until then, it's just you two. I'll inform Sergeant Lundgren as soon as possible. Don't leave her side." Carlson disappeared around the newel and down the lower flight of stairs. Gradually, the two men's conversation and receding boot steps faded until the quiet of early afternoon filled the air.

Shadows gradually deepened in the halls below. The two soldiers stood quietly, bathed in what diffuse sunlight filtered into the hallway through the balcony windows at its end, each considering what he had just heard and learned. It was a rather long quiet.

Along the north wall of the Gallery to the men's right, the central grandfather clock ticked away the seconds … the minutes.

There was a monotony in the duty of a door guardian, a basic contradiction that one both stand still and silent, yet remain completely alert. All soldiers knew their responsibilities in such duties, that they were most easily discharged when one was not anchored to a single spot, even if that spot was the doorway to the bedchamber of a beautiful princess.

The enemy of all guards was the stillness, the very silence that they were commanded to create and preserve. Like a siren it could lull a man to sleep before he even knew what had happened, especially in the wee hours of the morning when nothing moved, and every sound was suspect; and there were severe penalties for a guard found to be asleep while on duty, _very_ severe.

A special activity and wakefulness of the mind was the best defense against such an evil, but was hard for most to find and muster. So the two young men, one just barely deserving the appellation, did what all guards do in such situations when they thought that no one was watching. They talked.

"Well …" Anders said quietly breaking the silence, "… that explains a lot." still keeping to his Danish.

"Yes it does … it does indeed." Jens replied, looking to Anders beside him as he fidgeted with his musket, trying to suppress an uncomfortable smile.

A brief silence, shorter than the last, followed as both men strained to hear any sounds emanating from the room directly behind them. All was quiet. Visions of beautiful women with tails of emerald and azure perched upon wave-swept rocks filled the soldiers' minds; lovely daughters of the Sea King who sat and warmed themselves beneath the golden sun as they combed tresses both luxuriant and long.

Tick … tick … tick …

"A mermaid … _imagine that_." Jens smiled, shaking his head slightly from side to side.

"Never thought I'd see the day." came Anders' half-whispered, half-chuckled reply from his left.

From below two women's voices filtered up through the stairwell. Both men recognized them to be maids of the Household, without a doubt going about their normal duties and chores. But it was something to listen to, the voice of a pretty girl; indeed Jens recognized Gertrud's voice the moment he heard it, for he and more than a few of the men were sweet on the shy young maid. Thinking of how she had smiled at him just days ago, Jens' mind was suddenly drawn from its reverie to a more recent smile.

Tick … tick …

"What a beauty too. Such a face and smile like you would _never believe_ if you didn't see them with your own two eyes." Jens grinned, seeing again the brilliant and innocent expression that the Princess had offered him, even though she had obviously hoped for someone else; beyond a doubt the Prince.

Tick … tick … tick …

The women's voices faded below, as faint footsteps receded across the dance floor. Thomsen shifted uneasily.

"Go on, do tell?"

"Well, just as I said … like Aphrodite, risen from the sea." Jens replied, then paused, "…albeit with a nimbus of heavenly _fire._"

Tick ... tick … tick …

Jens found his thoughts again drawn to the young maid. _Gertrud_. Such a harsh name to be levied upon such a pretty young girl. He wondered what _her_ hair might look like, set loose and free. Its hints of light browns and blondes remaining still a mystery to him, hiding its true color, for he had only seen it worn in a loose bun as was the custom for most women, especially servants.

"That's a pretty picture." Anders chuckled. "You always go on like that, paintin' with words? … Sound like a regular poet."

"Sometimes." Jens smiled. "When the mood strikes."

Jens Lund thought that there must be a myriad of lovely names he could think of for Gertrud, any one of them better suited to her beauty than the one she had been given, names that also reflected how he felt about her. Jens had seen her many times since he had arrived, watching her silently and always from a respectful distance, hoping to hear her voice … always afraid to approach.

Tick ... tick …

"Haven't ever seen her up close myself, always from the distance." Anders mused quietly to his friend. "Ship came in after the dance I'm afraid. Heard a lot about it though."

"Same here. Missed it too. Such luck." Jens sighed.

In a way, it had been so with the _Princess_ as well, having heard so much about her but having never seen her up close … until today that is. The Prince was certainly a fortunate man to have such a maiden in his life, and as his betrothed no less. But she was lucky too, Jens supposed. After all, how many princes were like Eric? Jens couldn't think of a single one of all that he had ever seen or heard. Oftentimes one could almost forget that the young man wasn't just, well, one of the boys. It was a dangerous thing to forget.

Tick ... tick …

"But _we_ get to escort her about, right?" Anders smiled, looking back to Lund. "How about _that_ luck?"

"Oh, great luck!" Jens replied, a broad smile now crossing his young face. "Great luck to be sure!"

But a_ mermaid_! Jens thought, wondering what the fiery-haired young woman must be like. For her to smile at him so, he thought, she must have a heart of the purest gold … just like Gertrud.

Tick … Tick … tick … tick …

"Wonder if we'll see her again today?" Thomsen mused.

"One can hope ... one can _hope_."

* * *

Reaching the second floor landing, the Prince and Captain proceeded with haste across the dark marble tiles of the ballroom floor, a floor which now lay submerged in the deepening shadows of mid-afternoon. The dull reports of their boots echoed from the walls and the great arched windows overlooking the quay, falling almost but not quite in lock-step. Before them in the distance and to their right rose the two wide spirals of the Great Stair, and between them the hallway leading off to the Prince's apartments, spaces that until recently, had lain mostly disused.

Neither man spoke a word as they went. Eric felt a vague unease, as though something was out of place, but was unable to discern exactly what the matter was that troubled him. It seemed like a diffuse cloud of fear that lingered at the edge of his mind, the desperate feeling of a need to "act" that he hadn't felt for a while now … for weeks it seemed.

Why "weeks" he wondered? What happened _weeks_ ago?

_"The Witch,"_ he thought. Nothing else had happened _weeks_ ago other than his and Ariel's battle with the thing she had called "the Witch." _Ariel _had happened _weeks_ ago. Eric realized that he felt almost as he had back then, a consuming need to protect his little mermaid. But from _what_? Where was the threat? Henrik and his cohorts?

Glancing to his left, Eric could see work proceeding apace outside the windows upon the quay and aboard _Lyn_ herself. Men busied themselves in the masts and rigging while below they swarmed her decks in a hive of activity; but the dock he could no longer see. Instead, he was relieved to notice a large paulin of buff canvas stretched out across the spars on either side of the dock, hiding the dock's length beneath it. At least there would be shade for Ariel if she were able to join him. Glancing at Carlson, Eric noted that the older man seemed to be deep in thought, a troubled look upon his face.

"You're quiet." He said to the Captain, rounding the middle landings of the great staircase and hastening downward.

Carlson nodded. "I was thinking the same of you, sire. Was there something you wished to discuss?" he asked in a voice that likely only Eric could hear.

"You know that's really not necessary Aaron." the Prince said in a low voice.

The Captain threw a quick glance in Eric's direction, an admonishing look in his eyes.

"Aaron, come on! Calling me 'sire' all of the time. Even Grim calls me by my name." Eric laughed, but with a hesitancy that betrayed a worry at the back of his voice. "I mean I understand in front of the men, but can't you ever just _relax _and be yourself?"

Carlson sighed then spoke quietly. "Eric, I thought that we agreed to maintain at least the pretense of me being your subject for as long as I served within your household."

"I get tired of the formality." Reaching the stair, Eric took the right spiral downward. "Besides, no one will hear. Don't you miss being called by your real name?"

"You can't know that." Carlson followed, pausing as he spoke, "… and yes, sometimes I do, but you're hardly one to be chastising any man about taking a nomme de guerre … Christian."

Eric laughed and smiled at the Captain as he reached the ground floor landing "Alright, you've got me, but I swear I would rather be the eighth and last "Prince Eric" than have the same da ... the same name … as every other duke's son in Denmark and Norway with aspirations to the throne."

"I know, I seem to remember you mentioning it to me … on more than one occasion." Carlson chuckled.

As Eric approached the bottom landing of the stairs, a soldier of the Guard appeared from around its southern corner. The man's eyes quickly locked onto Eric and then the captain. Surprised at the Prince's presence, he stepped back against the railing and stood quickly to attention. "Sire, I've a report for the Captain."

Eric nodded to the young Guardsman, then looked to Carlson.

"Captain, the tower lookouts report a Man o' War standing into Christiansted."

"English?" the Captain asked.

"No sir, American, a larger ship. A frigate it looks to be."

Eric raised his right eyebrow, listening and looking to the captain. Carlson returned Eric's look. "No signals I presume?"

"None at all sir, other than an exchange of dips."

"Hmm. That's a signal in itself. Anything else Private Berg?"

"No sir."

"Very well, please report back to me when the ship anchors and have the Sergeant dispatch two men to determine who she is and greet her Captain. I'll likely be out on the east quay or dock with the Prince by then."

The Private saluted the Prince and then the Captain, then departed as swiftly as he had appeared in the way he came.

Eric followed the short exchange wondering what sort of signal the Captain was speaking of, returning the man's courtesy with a nod of his head. As the conversation ended, he looked over to Carlson and started his way down the hallway between the two winding stairs that led inward to the Ministerial Offices, lower Library and apartments. Carlson followed.

"You still haven't told me why you were so quiet." Eric paused, looking over to the Captain. "Do you think I was mistaken to tell Jens and Anders up there?"

The Captain shook his head, "I don't think so, no. They had obviously heard everything, Jens was in the room for most of it after all." Carlson paused. "Eric, grappling with rumors is done best at the source. I would say you chose well to tell the two of them."

"They both seem good men, Jens especially." Eric replied, smiling slightly. "So if that's not it, why _are_ you so quiet?"

Carlson continued to stride alongside the Prince. "Sometimes it's easier to remain silent than to rush into hasty speech, but … I've felt ill at ease since we attended the Princess." Carlson said nothing about the other feelings which were awash within his soul.

"So have I." Eric replied, his stomach turning as a sudden fatigue washed over him.

Carlson looked sideways at the Prince with a growing concern in his eyes, his expression demanding more information.

"I can't place it, what it is." Eric continued. "Something just feels, wrong. And I feel like Ariel is …"

The Prince came to a sudden stop. He sighed, closed his eyes and put his left hand to his forehead.

"Eric … are you well?!" Carlson asked, concern tinging his voice as he quickly stopped and returned to the young man's side. Eric now seemed more uncertain and worn than the Captain had seen him the entire day, for weeks really.

Eric nodded, but Carlson remained unconvinced. "You had better sit down." he said, pointing to a nearby decorative chaise against the hallway wall.

Eric sat, left hand still at his head as Carlson knelt down beside the Prince. "You're right, maybe I _should_ sit for a moment."

"Eric, tell me what you are feeling."

"A headache, nausea. But I think it's passing. I hope it's passing."

"We'll wait here until it has then. There's no use in you keeling over on us."

Again, Eric nodded, laying his head now in both hands. "Aaron, as much as you and Grim warned me, I just can't believe how … how horrible this day has been for her. Did you _see _the look on her face outside? I … I don't think I've ever seen that sort of despair in _anyone_ … let alone _Ariel_." Eric was silent for a moment, then continued. "I don't think I would blame her if she just wanted to … to go back."

Reaching out, Carlson laid his left hand on the Prince's shoulder. "Eric, it is entirely possible that this is going to get worse, if not today, then later, but this day is _not_ lost. You have to remember what you are up against and for _whom_ you are fighting. Ariel will come through this, as long as you stay by her side."

The Captain smiled, giving the young man's shoulder a brotherly shake. "She has a strong heart and she wants to be with _you _more than anyone or anything else on Earth. That was as clear as day from seeing her with you upstairs. But what were you saying before? You feel like Ariel is … what?"

"… in danger."

"Danger? Yes. I would say that she is, from that Knudsen fellow and his lot."

"No, not _Henrik_. I know, he might be a danger to her too, he sure _looked_ it this morning, and I know he's not the only one out there that feels that way, but that's not what I was talking about."

Lifting his head, Eric looked at the library doors just down the hall and with an uncertain movement stood, his eyes fixed upon his destination, then strode again towards it. Standing with the Prince the Captain nodded and followed the young man as he covered the remaining yards.

Coming to the library doors, Eric knocked then looked back at Carlson, "No … this is something else."


	13. Chapter 11 - Immortal Coil

**Author's Note: **_Sometimes others stories prove inspiring to me and I can't help but wish for their elements and essential themes to infuse what I write. Some things are too good to miss. In this case, I would like to mention Crisis Rose's "Prince Eric" series of stories as a fascinating look at what young Eric's life might have been like. I think there has been a lot of that lurking in the background of what I have written in Sael, though the correspondence is not precise. Thank you Rose, for these and many other beautiful stories. I also have the inestimable Converse r life, xSummersx, TardisBlueMermaid, and Lugubrious DBB as my wonderful inspirations through their gorgeous stories and inspiring spirts. You're wonderful, all of you. _

**_Publication Date:_**_ Monday, July 6th, 2015 (**Minor Emendations:** Sunday, September 13th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 11 – Immortal Coil**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 3:00 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Within the Jomfruøerne the salt, sand, and dust were everywhere, suspended in the airs, carried on the winds, hiding even in the high vaulted halls of Prince Christian's palace. Left alone any surface after but a few days would show upon it a fine layer of airy silt. Such too would have been the case within the Christiansborg had it not a very diligent staff, and one overseen by the most attentive of Mistresses.

The salt and sand were churned up by the sea of course, for the sea surrounded Sankt Croix and whole of the Jomfruøerne. But it was the dust blown in from across the Atlantic upon the trade winds that here was of special note, if not concern, for it came from lands so hot, so dry, and so vast that a little mermaid would have been hard pressed to fathom their mere existence even were they to be explained to her with great care. How strange and incomprehensible would such a place as the desert have been to one who had been born in the womb of the sea, who had for all of her life breathed its essence, to whom the very concept of dryness was alien, and death?

Yet it was the very same sun that had in ancient ages seared its desolation into Araby and the Maghreb that had also felled the youngest daughter of the King of all seas that morning, neither knowing nor caring what it did in its progress toward its evening sojourn; for the Sun was a thing, merely a mindless thing and no more, but such had not always been the case.

Pouring down through three lancet windows that pierced the western side of the library wall its wide and golden beams fell, bright like liquid fire cascading from a cauldron of seething brilliance. Through a wild tumult of dancing motes of dust they passed, those rays, their broad effulgence reflecting upon the fine lacquered finishes and ornate brass fittings of the many tiered cases, cabinets, tables, and chairs that adorned the library's center lounge.

Through their beams the day's light suffused that chamber's inner floors, its upper vaults, and its hidden spaces with the warm glow of the sultry Caribbean afternoon. Only in the afternoon and early evening was it thus, for though wide and tall, those windows looked out only upon the westward curving shore of Prince Frederick's Bay, such that just the rays of the wasting sun might thread their way inward through their fine arches and panes of clear plated glass.

Standing before them and looking to the right one might survey that broad channel of the Caribbean Sea beyond which lay the other isles of the Principality. To the west lay Puerto Rico, Hispaniola, Jamaica, and Cuba, the latter four islands forming what Men called the Greater Antilles.

The fiery orb was now in the mid of the southwestern sky as it continued its descent, seeking its inevitable rest beyond the highlands west of Christiansted. Given that the day's heat had become and remained so great, a visitor from more northerly climes might have found it odd to learn that mid-autumn was already well passed and that the days were growing steadily shorter as the winter solstice approached. Soon the sun's light would fail and night would fall. The dark was coming on fast, thus what work remained in the hurried preparations for the Princess's birthday, both outside the palace and in, would of necessity be lit by candle and lantern light alone.

One man stood alone within the library's confines, beneath the windows and looked up at the sun as it peaked down through their upper apices, his right arm outstretched in the light.

_"In the glory of Heaven so bathed, would my hand shine so brightly?" _he asked himself in silent lamentation.

Aubrey Beauclerk, Lord Grimsby, stared at his right hand now extended before him, its thin mottled skin, protruding knuckles, and fingers withered by age now caught in the sunlight as he held it out before him. He could feel the sun's warmth seeping through his flesh, warming old and aching bones. No wonder to him it was that their little mermaid adored the sun so, though it had proven her foe that morning.

Aubrey remembered how he himself had so relished the Caribbean climes for the ubiquity of their sunlight and the incessancy of their healing warmth when he had first visited Sankt Croix with Eric years ago; that voyage had been for the both of them a grand venture into the unknown. He remembered younger days too, a sadness in his heart, days long ago when it had not been the warmth of the sun he had cherished, but that of his beloved Sophia.

_"Enough!"_ Grimsby thought, chastising himself for entertaining thoughts such as these when their little angel was in peril. Memories could wait. In an instant the old man cleared his mind of needless sorrows and self-pity. Wariness of the sun was but another caution they must now adopt on their Ariel's behalf it seemed … but not the only caution.

"Heaven take that infernal Doctor and let him be damned!" Lord Grimsby's voice echoed throughout the shelves, stacks, and floors, resolute and filled with a confidence and wrath most within the Household had never heard emanate from the lips of the Prince's seemingly dour and measured principal Minister. The man went back about his work.

Great tomes and papers, books and charts, and all manner of oddities lay already strewn about the tables and desks of dark Danish walnut that adorned the library's center lounge, for the moment ignored, but not forgotten. Out from the stacks Aubrey Beauclerk emerged once again, this time bearing an armful of three binders, each crafted of the same richly tooled leather, now weathered and worn with age. Setting each down upon the closest reading table with care, Grimsby opened the topmost to reveal several neat stacks of fine but yellowed paper.

"Ah, yes," the old man grinned, "These, now, these … ought to shed some light on matters."

Putting his finger first to his tongue to moisten it, the old courtier paged through the first folio, his mind in pursuit of the second mystery that had confronted him today, having failed so far to find much in answer to the first, but having nevertheless taken decisive action to mitigate the danger it presented.

As he did so, his mind returned to Princess Ariel's bedchamber earlier this afternoon, letting it revisit the strange and beautiful words she had at first cried out and later spoken more softly, noting again their fine sounds and similarities to those that now lay before him. Most of them he had heard rather distantly as he had mounted the final flights of stairs to her room, but to his good fortune, her siren voice was not only lovely, but clear, and as such had carried beautifully even as it did through the halls whenever she sang or spoke.

Once he and Master Sael had arrived at the threshold of the Princess's bedchamber, Aubrey Beauclerk had felt somewhat slighted as the old sailor had stepped into the middle of what should have been a private conversation; but the fact that the man had seemed to recognize what had so frightened their young princess had proven most helpful. Aside from the brief meeting in the Guest Library, Grimsby had only seen the old sailor during the handful of voyages that he had made with Eric, and it was during the very last of these voyages that the old sailor had gone on to both of them incessantly about nothing less than _mermaids_. "Again, the Hand reveals itself." the statesman mused aloud to no one but himself. "… and in no less than in everything that has come to pass."

_"Aneelereeah."_ Beauclerk remembered, once again rolling the memory of the sounds through his tired but indefatigable mind, discerning that there had been a change in pitch, a pause within the sounds as the Princess had cried out. _"Anee … Lereeah" _then remembering the nuances of the last syllable, opened an adjacent folio of loosely bound leaves. _"Ani … Leria … Ani … Lerya." _

The markings within had been made mostly by brush, perhaps some by pen, all in a dark ink, strange to the untrained eye, though one knowledgeable of the languages might have at first mistakenly thought it a page taken from the Rig Veda due to the form of its characters. Overlaid upon the leaves, in the margins and corners, often between the lines, were finer markings, more recent notations in English, both old and modern. Some of the leaves had tracings or what appeared to be medieval illuminations, elaborated and colored with thin tinting to form eerie echoes of what have must been their originals, the paper which they adorned now darkened with age.

The conversation that had ensued between Ariel and Master Sael had fascinated Grimsby, as had the ease with which Ariel had accepted the old fellow following their brief morning encounter out on the quay. This Hans certainly seemed to have a comforting effect upon the maiden, not unlike that his Eric seemed to have, and for many minutes Aubrey had listened with care as the old sailor had caught Ariel's attention away from her fears and comforted her like he might a granddaughter.

It occurred to Grimsby that he himself might have done better in comforting the distraught young woman if only his customary reserve and sense of propriety had not stayed his hand … and his heart. Perhaps, he decided, _he too_ should try _harder_ in the future, just as he had advised his young charge; try harder for her sake, this maiden of the sea who would soon be his Prince's wife and the hope of Denmark and Norway.

Paging through the varied forms of letters and diacritical marks, he came to a section prefaced _"Númen."_

Skimming down through the first series he at last found two promising forms_ "ana," _the first a preposition_ meaning "to or towards," _the second more logically a verb as might have been expected,_ "anta." _The form_ "á anta" _seemed to hold the meaning of_ "give" _in the imperative. But that was not the sound of the word the Princess had cried out. Beauclerk felt a tide of disappointment rise within his heart.

This effort having borne questionable fruit, Aubrey sifted to the folio entitled _"Lambë." _ Skimming through several leaves he quickly found what he sought, the word _"lerya,"_ spelled exactly as it had sounded. The word was a verb, glossed as _"release, set free, let go."_ It appeared that their Princess had tried futilely to command Østerby to set her free.

Aubrey's confidence in his hypothesis was given new hope. At least one of his conjectures had proven correct. What astounded him beyond all description was that it appeared some of the sounds were highly conserved, unnaturally so … _impossibly so_; precisely as they would have to have been if his hypothesis was true. Was the Princess's native language a living fossil, so vastly ancient as to be beyond the ken of even the theologians? How could that be?

Once again focusing his memories, the old man tried to remember the sounds she had cried out as he had ascended the stairs. They were exclamations, short and concise, spoken in what sounded to be the imperative … commands. _"We." _He paused in thought, closing his eyes; _"we, we, van"_ were the sounds that had echoed from the Gallery up above. But such a word as "we" hardly would have made sense in his reckoning of the _Parma_.

_"Ui"_ however would have. It was known from the extant corpus that _"u" _was a negative. Had little Ariel been crying _"No!"?_ That certainly would have made sense given she was resisting Østerby's attentions, but _"Van,"_ that puzzled Grimsby. Verifying the diacritic he attempted to recall similar words. Searching further he finally came to the adjective_ "vanya"_, its meaning being _"fair or beautiful._" Despite how lovely their young Princess truly was though, such a word hardly would have made sense given what had been happening. The verb_ "vanya"_ was glossed just below this and without even reading the explanatory notes Aubrey remembered in its meaning of _"go away, depart, or disappear." _Some things one _never_ forgot.

The former meaning seemed quite appropriate to the situation, but the conjugation couldn't have led to such a brief form. Touching his right forefinger to his tongue, Beauclerk sifted through the myriad pages of the lexicon that he had long ago copied in painstaking detail from their precious originals. Never had he thought so long ago that his notes might ever prove more than a curiosity to him, or even among the other philologists of the Society; yet here he was, applying them to the frightened cries of no less than a former mermaid. The development was altogether amazing!

Grimsby frowned and noted ruefully that that his notes could use a better system of ordering and filing.

Then he found it. _"Ava," _a verb with the somewhat unclear meaning proximate to _"refuse" or "prohibit." _Had she been attempting to refuse Østerby his assault on her person, to forbid him from touching her further? Very likely it seemed. It suddenly occurred to Grimsby that the many loose leaves before him seemed to truly offer insight into Princess Ariel's mind and world, but how could that possibly be? The gulf between the two was nearly a hundred centuries, not to mention the fathomless deep itself! There had been other words cried and spoken which he would have to further consider, but following his first inklings of recognition his confidence had grown. _"Mere nuances really."_ the old man thought.

As Grimsby reviewed the sounds of the other words, he found that they too aligned, if not precisely then with certain mutations which seemed consistent in the small corpus of words that he had available to him. He would have to hear far more of her tongue to confirm his hypothesis, but if it was true the conclusion must be altogether incredible. The Society and even the Academy would have to learn of this, which of course posed a problem, that being protecting their young Princess and her people from the predations of the world that must inevitably follow any such a magnificent disclosure.

Already Eric's friend the Lieutenant had confided to him and Eric certain advisements he was making in dispatch to his President, given the revelations of what things slept within the deep, making mention of certain devices that might be procured by his government and provided in the event of future need such as that which had arisen little more than a month ago. Though the intent was proof against Leviathan, such devices in nefarious hands could easily be turned against the Princess's people, as well as whoever else dwelt below the waves. The whole development was entirely predictable and logical, yet it pained Aubrey.

Grimsby was certain now though … certain that he _knew_. The question was … did _she_?

From what Grimsby had seen of this little Ariel, and he had been watching her with fascination these past many weeks, she had a natural and unpretentious manner with whomever she met, and seemed to make no distinction between people regarding their stations in life. Thankfully and quite alarmingly perhaps, she also seemed to be quite oblivious to the effects of her beauty and charm upon others, particularly when those others were young men. "Such a vision." Aubrey mused aloud, remembering again when he first saw her in the Dining Hall of the palace.

Already from what he had heard from the Captain and others in his service, the Princess had unknowingly gained a fair following of admirers not just in the palace but in Christiansted and its surrounds, some more discreet than others in expressing their feelings of … admiration.

Grimsby wondered if all of her people were of such a kind and naïve disposition. He doubted it, for something had told the old man in his heart from the moment he first saw the young woman that she was unique unto herself; her innocence and childlike optimism for example, her boundless curiosity, they had already done so much to warm his jaded old heart. But oh, her voice! Such measures of beauty as men had at their disposal seemed so wanting to describe its loveliness, especially when she lifted it in song, or quite strangely as he now knew … in terror.

Considering his new insight, Grimsby's mind returned to the Princess herself, their beautiful little mermaid and Eric's bride to be. Young Ariel's innocence and naiveté about matters of passion was an endearing quality of hers to the old statesman, though he doubted that even if she were aware of such things would such knowledge have changed her in character in the slightest. In his heart, Grimsby positively adored the girl, perhaps every bit as much as Eric. He thought about the way she would dance, how she would frolic to and fro asking questions about everything in sight; questions which like Eric, the old man took a secret delight in answering … and Aubrey Beauclerk could answer many questions.

It was for this reason, for the reason of the many things that Grimsby knew that his heart had filled with immediate alarm when Østerby had again spoken following his subdual. In that instant the old man had sensed the descent of a subtle darkness into their presence, a coercion of thought and oppression of awareness; something like the scent of brimstone had tickled at the back of the old courtier's mind if not his nose.

The Doctor had seemed little concerned with Aubrey however, perhaps thinking like so many others Beauclerk was merely a trifling fellow to be dismissed and laughed at. When the old man had simply let his mind go blank instead of resisting, filling it with what he assumed the Doctor expected to find there, Østerby had just as quickly moved on_. _

_"How careless."_ Grimsby mused as he toyed with what he would do to the miscreant if apprehended, though he thought the possibility unlikely … after first learning all he could from the man of course.

A polite knock at the library doors woke the elder statesman from his reverie. It was the knock of a hand Grimsby had often heard and knew well, having listened over the years as its tone had changed from the hesitant tap of a young boy to the confident rap of a young man. The first Aubrey had heard that tap was at the door of his studies amid the old Christiansborg Palace, now long since burned to the ground save for its chapel. What had greeted him then was the fallen face of a five-year old Prince, his eyes lowered but his pupils lifted upward to the tall courtier. Eric had come to him for help with a difficult passage in his Biblical readings, and as it turned out, the affection his father had never offered. Old Grimsby smiled, his mind reaching back the over many years and though the many adventures that had now since passed between the two.

"Yes Eric, my boy! Come in, come in!" he called out in reply, proud of his discovery and excited to share it with the young man he had long considered no less than his own son, as he wondered how his own sons and daughters fared. It had been some time since a letter had come; given the war, however, this was to be expected from time to time.

The door opened in a rhythm to which both Beauclerk and Eric had long become accustomed, the knock more than a formality but never there being a doubt between the two that the door would indeed open. To Eric, Aubrey Beauclerk's door had never been closed, even in those terrible days when the boy had sought comfort most often in Carlotta's arms. Their brief respite thereafter in the small house near the Amalienborg Palace had been one of the most pleasant days of his life and Carlotta's as well, for that was when the three of them had become of sorts a family, if not by blood, then at least in heart and soul.

As the doors swung open Grimsby was surprised to see not only Eric, but also the American naval officer known to most of the Household and Islanders as Captain Carlson. Eric stepped in first.

"Grim, Jens Lund told me about your orders to him and Thomsen. What is this all about? Why didn't you send for me?!"

As Eric approached Grimsby immediately noticed something amiss in his boy's gait, a drift to the left in his step as though his balance was disturbed. Eric normally maintained such a confident yet effortless stride. _"Not so now."_ Beauclerk observed to himself with some concern. Putting it off to understandable fatigue, the old man replied "Ah, Eric my boy, not to worry for now. I've taken the matter in hand and thought that rather than trouble you and the Princess further that I would let you both rest while I … resolved matters."

At this, Grimsby's eyes briefly turned to Carlson, carrying in their gaze an intensity most uncustomary for the old Minister. Carlson met the Lord's gaze and after a moment nodded in silent reply.

At nearly the same time, Eric's right hand went to his eyes. For a moment the young prince stood still, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned heavily against the richly padded end of a sofa.

"Eric!" The Captain swiftly reached out to steady the young man as he started to fall over. Carlson firmly steered the young man's wavering body down to the sofa's cushioned seat. "Come, sit down." Kneeling down in front of the Prince, the officer studied the young man. "Eric, what is it?"

"Aaron, it's nothing!"

"Eric, I hardly think your being on the verge of collapse twice in the space of a few minutes constitutes 'nothing'."

"Yes, I would agree, it seems rather like indeed 'something' my boy. Captain, how long has he been like this?" Grimsby asked Carlson, leaving the table over which he had been perched and sitting down quickly beside the Prince.

"Since we left the Princess's apartments, milord."

"You can dispense with your pretenses Lieutenant, the doors are closed and it is just us three, I've seen to that." Grimsby said dryly, though with a chuckle as a sly smile spread across his face. "I know titles and ranks offend your _colonial _sensibilities."

The Captain frowned at first, then a half smile crossed his face and he nodded to Grimsby. "I'll defer to your judgment though I hardly know how to address you when I'm not 'Carlson' … Lord. To be honest, the opportunity hasn't often presented itself."

"Ah yes, always so polite and clever. Sometimes titles _can_ be useful, eh young fellow?" The old man replied, a wry smile spreading across his lips as he looked back to Eric with concern. "Aubrey, of course … as usual."

"Now, Eric what exactly is the matter? Are you ill?" Beauclerk cast a sidelong glance to the Captain.

Carlson shook his head in reply.

"I'm fine." the Prince said as he held his head in his right hand.

"Then what is it that is troubling you. You look as though you are in pain my boy."

"I am. My head hurts."

"Ah, yes, not 'nothing' then it seems. Is that all or is there more? When did this begin?"

"After we came down from Ariel's room."

"Did something happen on the way?"

"No, I think it's just that … I can't bear what's happening to her Grim. I can't stand to see her suffering like this after all that she's been through, and then my stupid words outside in front of the men, and now Østerby. Hasn't she been through enough?! Eric looked up. "Grim, I feel so …" There was a very long pause, an uncomfortable silence filled the air as Eric held his head in both hands.

"What my boy? Helpless?" he paused. "If so you're not alone, I suspect that is exactly how _she_ feels."

"No. Not helpless … _useless_. _I'm_ supposed to be the one _protecting_ her. I promised Grim. I swore to her father that I _would_." Eric ran his fingers backward through his loose dark hair then stopped to rub his temples.

The Captain chuckled to the immense surprise the other two as a broad grin crossed his lips and the sunlight danced across his eyes. "Eric, you _are_ protecting her. She's safe and she'll be well, no lasting harm has been done and the matter with your men will work itself out. _You'll _work it out, you and she together." He paused, looking from the windows above back to Eric and Grimsby. "Once they get to actually know her, they'll _see_. I can just see it. The Princess will have so many new friends and admirers that _you'll wish_ everyone was still suspicious of her."

Both Eric and Grimsby looked to the man, both dumfounded for a moment at his unexpected and most uncharacteristic bout of humor.

"Aaron, we're not there yet. You're being too optimistic." Eric replied, his voice quiet and doubtful.

"Eric, you know very well that I am _not_ one prone to blind optimism. Why are you berating yourself?" The officer's smile faded somewhat, a more serious look replacing it. "How many people have to tell you that it wasn't your fault for you to finally believe them? There is only so much you can do, so much that you could have done, and you did your very best."

"Eric, I have to agree my boy, we've been over this haven't we? Think now, what is the worst that has happened to her?" Grimsby interrupted. "She's frightened yes, but aside from what happened with our good Physician, our little mermaid just had a fainting spell … too much sun, too much heat, not enough water, yes?"

"No"

"No?" both Grimsby and Gray replied, looking at each other then back at Eric, looks of puzzlement filling their eyes.

"She didn't just faint."

"Eric, what do you mean?" Grimsby asked quietly.

Instead of responding, the Prince just sat there, hands held out before his eyes, staring at his palms. A disturbing silence took the room.

Grimsby reached out now to touch Eric's left shoulder.

"Grim. I couldn't …" Eric's voice cracked, as he suddenly choked back a broken sob as he struggled to gain control of himself. The Prince dropped his head into his hands, his whole body now shaking. No. He couldn't cry. He couldn't allow himself. He wasn't a broken little boy anymore. That morning he had cried in front of everyone, people whose respect he needed to command … he had cried for her. If he could help it he wouldn't do so again, no matter how much it hurt not to. If he ever cried again it would be with _her_, and _her alone_.

"Couldn't what Eric?" Grimsby asked, his hand firmly set upon the young man's shoulder now, steadying him."

Eric grew still. "…feel her heart beating." He said quietly, pausing head still held in his hands. "I couldn't feel her heart beating Grim."

"Eric, her heart?" Carlson interjected. "Stopped beating you mean. How … how could you know?"

Eric's back heaved as he took a labored pained breath "Aaron, do you know how many times I've held her since I first met her?"

The Captain's face darkened slightly, his eyes narrowing as he now struggled unexpectedly against his own hidden feelings for the young Princess, unacceptable feelings that discipline and character should have never admitted in the first place, much less needed to restrain.

"No Eric." he replied in almost a whisper. "How many?

"More than I can count Aaron, and when I hold her close to me I can always feel her heartbeat, always. Every single beat." Eric paused, looking up at Gray and then to Grimsby who sat there listening, stunned. "Nothing else feels like it, the soft flutter of her heartbeat against my breast, my cheek. Sometimes I even count them, just to see how many I can feel in my chest, how many of her breaths I can feel against my neck or my face; and she'll just lie there against me, so happy and content … so warm and alive."

There was a silence. How Aaron secretly wished that he too could feel her beating heart against him just once again. Collecting his wits, he steeled himself. That he was even thinking such things, feeling such emotions was intolerable. The Captain straightened himself slightly as his heart and will did battle. In seconds the latter won out, consigning his thoughts back to the special purgatory of hopeless dreams he had hidden away deep within his psyche.

"I wonder if she does the very same?" Grimsby added, smiling and giving Eric a fatherly pat upon the shoulder.

"Well, she wasn't then because her heart wasn't _beating_ Grim." Eric paused, anger welling up in his voice, a nascent rage directed at one man … himself. "It wasn't beating. Not once." He stopped again, running his fingers once again through his hair which was now thoroughly disheveled. "I told you before, I almost killed her with my stupid words." The young prince stared plaintively at his mentor and best friend as they struggled to accept what he had just told them. "I don't know what brought her back."

"You didn't tell me this before Eric." Grimsby replied softly. "Not all of it at least."

"I _couldn't_ Grim. I couldn't force myself to say it, didn't know _how_ to say it. I didn't want to _remember_." He paused just for a moment, before looking up toward the windows above. "But I do."

"Ariel's heart is beating _now_ Eric." Aaron stated calmly. "You were holding her upstairs, she's safe, and she wouldn't have been had you not been there for her. _You're _her life now. Any fool could see that from how she looked at you up there, and outside beforehand. I swear I've never seen a woman look at a man with more love and devotion in her eyes than she did when you went to her side."

There was a sadness, almost a regret in the officer's voice as he spoke, one that Eric seemed to miss but was hardly lost on the cunning old Lord who now sat at Eric's side. Grimsby feigned ignorance, resolving to consider this new complication later when the opportunity presented itself. "He's right Eric." he added, leaning in front of the boy and looking into his troubled eyes. A fatherly and loving smile crossed his lips. "Trust me my son, this day _will _end, and a new one will dawn, a better day. It always does."

The old man paused. "How is your headache, are you feeling better now?

"Yes, better. Like I said, it was nothing. I'm just worried for her."

"Ah yes, well you look better. Maybe getting that off of your chest helped, eh? But to be honest, I think your friend the Lieutenant is right. You've done _well _Eric. This is not an easy matter, but you handled it quite passably this morning in so far as you went. Our little dear simply misunderstood, the poor child, but that is over with, yes?"

Eric nodded, not saying another word.

"Grim. Your orders to Jens and Anders, what were they about? Why did you give them?" He stopped, staring intently into Grimsby's eyes. "I can't stand the man after what he did to Ariel, but why is Østerby so dangerous that you warned them about him coming back?"

Beauclerk looked out to the sunlit western approaches of the palace, his eyes settling upon the marching waves and broken rocks that rimmed the distant strand. He was strangely silent, as if considering some matter of great but distressing import, taking solace in the beauty laid out before him. The courtier's head drooped slightly as he let loose a long, sad sigh.

The Captain stood, looking at the pensive Grimsby alongside Eric, but he just as quickly turned his head to the nearby table, noting the dozens of open books, tomes and binders.

Grimsby stared back at the prince, and let his eyes follow the officer's. Pressing his hands to his knees, he stood up slowly from the couch and walked over to the opposite side of the table. Eric followed, and decided to change the subject to get Grimsby talking again. He wanted to know was what was troubling the old fellow so that might be a threat to his love, the lingering feeling of unease about her safety now mounting once again in his own mind.

"Grim, what is all of this?" Eric asked, wondering why the old Lord hadn't answered his question.

"Oh … wisdom my boy. Secret things, old knowledge, ancient thoughts and words long forgotten." The old Minister mused, reaching out to one folio and sifting its papers in an almost tender way.

"Aubrey, the _Maleus Maleficarum_?" Carlson asked, leafing through the pages of a tome lying open at the far end of the table.

"Yes, and the _Formicarius_ along with the full accounts of the cases of Scavius and Stedelen. There are others, many others, Salem and other cases, some rather suspect and to be handled with care … none very helpful I'm afraid, though I've had little time to examine any in detail."

"Witchcraft? Grimsby, you can't honestly think she's a witch too?!" Gray said in a taut but hushed voice.

"No young fellow, not witchcraft, but _sorcery_. And not her of course … _him_, our good doctor,_ Østerby_."

Both Eric and Gray paused in their investigations of the table's contents and looked up at the Lord.

Eric had been following the conversation as he too examined the contents of his mentor's researches into the arcane, but Grimsby's last statement immediately drew his attention. "Sorcery?!" Eric asked, his eyes growing wide and brow lowering as he looked up to Grimsby, then over to Gray.

"Yes. Be patient now Eric, I'll explain in a few moments once I've gathered my thoughts. Keep looking, I fear that our young mermaid's safety may hinge upon what you see before you."

Eric stared back at his mentor, the hair standing slightly on the back of his neck. Given what Grimsby had just said the sense that Ariel was somehow still in danger now seemed overwhelming to him, even as it had upstairs at the threshold of her bedchamber when he had seen … Østerby … holding her against her will.

His memories were confused, when he thought back to what had happened not only did Eric remember, but he also remembered something else. There were vague flashes of things that hadn't happened, that mustn't have happened, but he couldn't place his finger on what he was feeling. For a moment he put his left hand to his head and leaned heavily against the table with the right, focusing his eyes instead upon the materials laid out before him.

Most of the items before him seemed to be works of the occult, magic, or related thereto; but others were equally mysterious, what appeared to be bound editions of meeting minutes, some in English, others in German and French. He would have to page through them later to see what they were. A nearby book concerned ancient architecture, another massive tome was written entirely in Greek and appeared much older than the rest. There was even a scroll of what appeared to be vellum. It seemed an odd collection.

Turning to several of the larger large books the Captain opened their covers one by one. "The Lesser Key of Solomon … Paracelsus … the Magus." he paused after reading several titles and names, though Eric couldn't be sure which were which. "Aubrey … these are _grimoires_!" he said darkly.

Grimsby nodded to the man in acknowledgement. "Yes, and not a one of them useful, not yet at least. Have a care though young man. Some magical tomes maintain at least the pretense that their power derives from the _Almighty_. Not so for others. I recommend that you consider those with special caution."

"Aubrey, surely you can't be serious?" Carlson replied in a quiet but tense voice. "Rubbish and forgeries, such things, at least compared to what they purport to be."

"What transpired five weeks ago was hardly '_rubbish_', Lieutenant Gray." Beauclerk replied.

A silence descended upon the room as Carlson looked up at the old man, his eyes narrowing, then after a moment of contemplation looked back down to the contents of the table before them. Beauclerk followed the young men's investigations with curious and observant eyes.

"Grim, magic?" Eric joined in, filling the pregnant pause that followed the courtier's last words. "I don't know what all of this is about," the prince said, pointing to the table beneath him with his outstretched right hand "but I can't dismiss this feeling that there's more danger to Ariel than what happened outside this morning, is happening outside right now … more than just the rumors, more than Henrik and his fellows. I just ... I just can't understand why I feel that way. You said Østerby. I want to know more."

"_Sorcery_, not magic, and yes my boy, you're quite right." The old man replied, looking scornfully at the skeptical Captain. "I'm afraid that there is, a greater danger I mean, and that for now, this Østerby is very much at its center."

The Prince's eyes settled on the open binders and their folios of loose leaves. As it happened, the Lieutenant was already examining one of them.

"Do you recognize it?" Grimsby asked Aaron.

The officer shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think it's Sanskrit, though there seems a resemblance. By chance is this that favorite old vice of yours you spoke of?" he asked, looking back up to Grimsby, a rueful half smile spreading across his face.

Eric listened and wondered what he was missing. He was surprised that the two men seemed to almost have a common understanding of whatever it was that lay before them. "Grim, you still haven't explained what all of this is." he asked, hoping Grimsby would finally get to the point and answer his questions. The old man could sometimes be so difficult to extract direct answers from.

Grimsby paused, lifting his eyes from the folios and sheets beneath him and bringing them to bear first upon Eric, then to Gray, and finally back to Eric. "Why Eric my boy, this … is our lovely Princess's native tongue, or at least something remarkably close to it."

Eric looked back up to him. "But … how …"

"Eric, first things first. You want answers, yes? Tell me, have you any idea of what transpired in Princess Ariel's chambers this morning? What do you as well your friend here remember?"

Eric's face twisted slightly into a grimace, his brows lowering. "Do you mean that ba ..." Eric went quiet suddenly, but clenched his right hand into a fist. "... Østerby bleeding poor Ariel and scaring her half to death?"

"Not exactly. Tell me everything that you remember please, from the beginning."

Eric looked back at Grimsby, his eyes narrowing and brows tightening further. His normally handsome features twisted into a grimace. He drew a deep breath "We were all together in the Guest Library when Max bolted upstairs. Aaron and I followed and I heard Ariel's screams from upstairs as we were following him, then there was a loud crash."

"Yes, good, go on ..."

Eric looked back at him. "When I reached her room she was at the far side of her bed and Østerby had her arms. She was cornered and her head was nodding like he had hurt her or she had fainted again."

Grimsby nodded, silently raising his right eyebrow, encouraging the boy to continue.

"That's when I yelled at him and told him to get away from her."

"Captain, is that also what you saw?"

The man stood silently, his eyes directed downward as though revisiting the moment described. "Yes and no. I remember coming into the Princess's bedchamber and seeing what Eric described, but then I remember seeing the Doctor pinned face down with Eric above him." The officer looked to the Prince, "You were quite angry."

Eric stared back. "I ... I don't remember that Aaron." He looked down for a moment. "I ... I just remember telling him to get away from her, but ..." Eric paused. He _did_ remember. That second conversation, the one that was so faint and distant, but very much_ there_. No. He hadn't just _commanded_ the Physician to release his love and step away from her, he had leapt across her bed into the man and thrown him to the floor. Aaron was _right_. But if so, why were his own memories so clouded? What _else_ was it that he was remembering … not remembering?

"But _what_ my boy?" Grimsby replied

"I feel ... feel like." Once again Eric put his head to his hand, as though a pain had seized it.

"Feel like _what_ Eric?" Grimsby followed, reaching across the table to steady the boy, concern in his eyes.

"Like something is missing, something that I feel like I should remember. I can almost remember it, see it."

"Try … harder." Grimsby added dryly.

"Try harder?! Grim, what is it?!" Eric cried out.

"My boy, it seems that neither you nor your friend remember more than shreds of what really happened in that room this afternoon."

Eric lifted his head from his hand, looking at his mentor, a look of puzzlement filling his face.

"It was worse than I had expected Eric, all of the fears that I held, of which we have spoken since she first came … never would I have thought the worst of them would enter so directly into our midst, so brazenly, so overwhelmingly, so … _so very soon_."

The Captain stood still, his attention completely fixated on the Minister and his suddenly hushed words.

"Someone, Østerby alone perhaps, perhaps someone else … someone was investigating our dear Ariel."

"Grim, I don't understand. What the devil are you talking about?"

"Ah yes, precisely my boy. The Devil! Or else something very much like him … _sorcery._"

"Grim, you said that before, when are you going to explain?"

"Eric, our Doctor brought something with him that we hadn't asked for or expected. There was no cure for our little Princess no matter what her ailment had been, but instead I fear the most malign intent." The old man looked up at Eric and turned his eyes to the Captain. "When Østerby spoke that second time, that was when I could feel it, almost smell it."

Carlson stood silently, his hand now motionless against the tome it had been leafing through; the man's eyes remained riveted upon Aubrey Beauclerk, listening. Grimsby was amused that at last after three long years he finally commanded the officer's undivided attention, the man having always been distracted and preoccupied, if not by his duties, then his many odd investigations and experiments.

Eric broke the silence. "Feel? Smell? What Grim?"

"I'm … not sure." The old courier paused as he fingered a page in his right hand. "Something foul, akin to smoldering sulfur, a heaviness upon my mind, one that made me not want to think, not want to feel, not want to remember … not for myself at least. It seemed like a terrible headache." He looked at Eric. "Not unlike the one you seem to have been having."

Eric lowered his right hand from his head, staring back a Grimsby, still looking for answers.

"Of course I hadn't sought to attract his attention." The look in the man's eyes seemed distant, glassy, as though he was reliving what had happened. "At first I only vaguely felt his presence in my thoughts, like a snake creeping through high cut grass; quite an odd sensation really. It was then I realized what must be happening."

"What was _happening_? Grim what _WAS_ happening?"

"I should think it was some manner of foul enchantment, a spell if you will. Perhaps something else, but the sense of oppression that seemed to wash over me was unlike anything else I have ever experienced."

"Magic." Eric half whispered. "Like the Witch."

"Sorcery, and no, this was _different_."

"No it wasn't. Not _that_ different."

"No it _wasn't_? Eric, please explain yourself."

"That … _spell_, whatever it was the Witch held me under, it _was_ like _that_ … like _this_. I could feel, see, and hear everything. But I couldn't act, even when I saw Ariel watching out of the corner of my eye, watching what was happening, crying, I couldn't …" he stopped, his throat tightening.

"I see. You had told me something of it before. Now that you remind me, perhaps I was mistaken. There does seem to be some similarity, doesn't there?"

"But Grim, how did you escape? I don't remember anything, just being angry at him for scaring her."

"You were aware the whole time then?" the Captain asked, finally breaking his silence.

Beauclerk looked over to the officer and smiled. "Why my dear Lieutenant, I defeated Østerby at his own game."

"Game … sorcery you mean?"

"No … _deceit_."

Once again, Eric and the Captain exchanged a puzzled glance, then looked back to the old Minister.

"Half a lifetime spent before Parliament teaches one some useful skills my good fellows … logic, oratory, debate, all of the good rhetorical disciplines that hone one's mind in the ways of power and self-control … self-discipline." The old man stood tall now, more than a hint of pride and reflection on the past evident in his stance.

"But Grim, if none of us were able to resist then how … "

"My boy, I have made a career of being _underestimated_." the old Parliamentarian interrupted wryly. "He had apparently expected to find nothing when he peered into my thoughts, so that is precisely what I gave him. _Nothing_." Aubrey smiled to himself, for thereafter he had carefully observed everything that followed, never once being noticed by their assailant Østerby. "It was rather simple really, to stand there in silence, motionless, my eyes ahead, blinking only when I had to … seeing and hearing everything that happened, my mind devoid of thoughts."

Eric sat there dumfounded. He had never considered Aubrey to be anything as ineffectual as some had held him to be, but this was a new revelation about his old mentor's character and capabilities that simply stunned him. "Grim, what … happened?"

Like Eric the Lieutenant stood there, his attention focused upon every word the man spoke, trying to discern any technique that might prove useful were such a threat to befall them in the future. From what the old fellow had said however, his resistance seemed to have extended from a lifetime of experience, wisdom, and simply being misjudged. Like a chameleon, the old Lord had camouflaged his razor sharp intellect against the flawed assumptions of his opponent. It was a trick worthy of emulation, if only the young officer knew how.

"Yes, well, what I saw and heard was very odd. There was a conversation in the room, and all seemed well until the good Captain here offered assistance to Master Sael removing the leeches from our young Princess. That was when the miscreant spoke again. As he did so, the conversation seemed to become not one, but two, one the truth, the other a lie. In the first, the true one I think, Østerby spoke for the most part. It was astonishing really, to see you all sitting there in silence as if in a trance; yet I could still hear, could still _see_ the other conversation too, the lie that the Doctor seemed to offer as provender, what we wished had actually happened perhaps."

"You sound as though you've experienced something like this before Aubrey." Carlson offered.

"Other than endless droning debate on the part of my fellow Peers … no. I cannot say that I have ever before endured such a torture." Grimsby returned.

Carlson looked down glowering at the table, "That such a thing happened yet not being able to remember any of it." He shook his head.

"Ah, but you my friend, you were the only one to challenge him!" he said, looking back at the Captain

Carlson looked up at the man, his mind breaking from its moment of reflection. "I fought back, how?"

"Fought wouldn't have been the most accurate description, but it was clear from how you looked at him as well as your words when you spoke that you didn't care for him." The old Lord paused as he scratched his chin. "In fact Lieutenant you were reaching for that fine blade of yours when the Doctor finally seemed to take notice of you. He directed a few words to you before you seemed to relent and drop your hand. I have to say that there hasn't been a time since we first met on the steps of the Outer Barbican that I had so hoped to see you draw that sword again."

"And I did nothing." Eric added glumly as the Captain nodded back to Grimsby yet remained silent.

"Not entirely Eric, you tried to resist, I could see it, the confusion in your eyes, though more in the lie than in the reality. So did your fiancée, quite headstrong really the young lady. I'm afraid the dastard put quite a bit of force into our lovely Princess, given how much he spoke to her. He was very … insistent with her. She didn't make it easy for him I think." Grimsby smiled, remembering admiringly how their little mermaid princess had stubbornly insisted that what the man was telling her was untrue. Then in equal distress he remembered how she had at last cried out and wept, her eyes widening and an anguished look suffusing her fair visage; thereafter she had docilely complied with Østerby's commands. That part Aubrey decided to save for later, unless a need became apparent. There was no need to further trouble his boy with such tidings.

Eric immediately sat up straight, his posture and mind suddenly alert as he stared at Grimsby with deep lines of concern etching his face. "Grim, what did he do to Ariel?"

"Eric, I can't be sure I'm afraid. I know only what I saw and heard. What I do suspect is what he came for."

"Came for? What Grim?"

"Her blood""

"Her blood! Grim, what for?!" Eric cried in exasperation.

"Yes. Eric, as I said I believe that the purpose of this Østerby's visit was to obtain our Princess's blood."

"But _why_?"

"Why the only possible reason, the application of the _dark arts_. The blood carries the soul, or so it was long believed by some … _practitioners_. Obviously he is interested in hers." Grimsby paused. "Beyond that guess I have no idea whatsoever what the man's exact purpose with it was, nor what else he sought, if anything. Moreover, I have no idea of who was behind the act if not the Doctor himself, or why it was undertaken."

Eric mused at the irony of it all, if it was true that the man had indeed come for his love's blood as some arcane measure of her soul, the very same soul she was so fearful she didn't have but so obviously and gloriously to him did. He wondered if any reassurances outside of wedlock would convince her, or if she would continue to believe that it was his soul alone that was her salvation.

"The dark arts, black magic? Is that what you mean by _sorcery_?" Carlson asked, once again breaking a prolonged but attentive silence.

Beauclerk nodded in reply. "It was quite amusing really, when our friend the Doctor turned to leave, only then did he seem to even remember that I had ever been there. Oh, the stunned look upon his face was simply priceless. Once the Doctor had departed though I simply waited, until I could no longer could feel the man in my thoughts, no could longer taste the brimstone in the back of my mind.

"Brimstone?" The Captain asked. "Sulfur? You mentioned something like that before. There _was_ a foul … a foulness … something deeply wrong. I could feel it, like the world bending in against all that was right. It wasn't a scent, but it was … it was like a scent." Carlson tried to reconcile the synesthesia he had experienced with the words he was saying. It was hardly a good match.

"Ah, well, to me it seemed like a scent, one that I could taste and feel that made one itch as with hives, foul and repulsive. A … wrongness … as you said. I would suppose that would be the Lukiferic element."

"Lukiferic element" Carlson replied. "You mean luciferous?"

"No I'm afraid, something else Aaron. It can wait until later."

"Why didn't you wake me Grim?" Eric asked quietly.

"There wasn't time Eric, the Princess was safe in your arms, you were safe, and there was peace. I had a matter to dispose of. Beauclerk seemed to be growing agitated with this line of questioning. "That is when I pulled your Private Lund from the room, Captain. He wakened easily, both he and the other man, what is his name? Ah yes! Thomsen! The one who had remained vigilant outside the Princess's bedchamber; of course I found him the same waking dream that you all had been in."

"A matter … Grim, can't you just speak to me _straightforwardly _instead of this roundabout you are feeding me! I am the _Prince_ you know, the man Ariel is going to marry!"

Grimsby paused, his eyes widening at Eric's uncharacteristic outburst. The old man blinked at his young charge. "Very well, Eric; as you wish. I dispatched a man to have the Doctor killed. A very special man in the employ of the Captain here." The old man paused, reaching to the table for his pipe.

"Killed?" Eric asked, the blood draining from his face. He looked over to the Captain.

Carlson looked back at him, nodded slightly, then took a deep breath, and closing his eyes exhaled as he turned his head to the windows.

"Yes, I had hoped to spare you the knowledge of it as I long have many of the unsavory aspects of power, but you insisted my boy." the old man replied in a cool and unnaturally calm voice as he drew a pouch of tobacco from the left pocket of his coat.

"But Grim … "

"_Prince Christian Frederick_!" Grimsby exploded. "A man, who knows what he is exactly, has dared enter _your_ household and attacked the very young lady you plan to wed in but a few months! Did you expect me your guardian to do _nothing_?!" the old man stared down now at Eric from his full height, anger and exasperation clouding his face.

It had been years since Eric had seen such an outburst, such rage in his old mentor's face, such pain and even fear in his eyes. The young man felt as though he was twelve years old once again.

"He has her _blood_!" Grimsby bellowed "… and only he and God on high know what he_ intends_ to do with it. Before your encounter with that thing you called the _Witch_, I was hardly inclined to believe such things as even possible. That is no longer the case I assure you young man, now indeed I _know_ them to exist, to be most real, and deadly. What do you propose that I should do!? Sit idly by as he returns to take her life as well?!" The old man paused, absentmindedly adjusting his red cravat. "I shall not. I would rather you dismiss me from your Household before I should let the poor dear suffer such a fate, or whatever else that beast intends for her!"

"Grim, easy, easy. Calm down. I … I understand, but you can't. You can't just have a man killed."

"I can. I have. I shall!" The man turned away indignantly, lighting his pipe from a nearby candle flame. "I made a promise to your mother young man, to defend not just you but also your sisters and your brother, all of Denmark, for her sake. I would die first before I betray that oath. This man is a threat to our _Ariel_, to her very life, and if you care nothing for that, then I do. It is how your mother would have wanted it."

Eric sat there looking up at old Grimsby, stunned at the man's revelations. The young Prince suddenly realized that Østerby had been a fool to underestimate the Lord Eric considered the truest father he had ever known, the only father he had ever had save in name and law. The Physician had not been the only one to underestimate Aubrey Beauclerk though … Eric had as well. The young prince for once had no idea of what to do, and wondered who this man who had raised him truly was.

The courtier stood now, his back turned slightly to Eric as he lit and drew upon his pipe. A rich aroma stole through the room, the scent of Virginia tobacco laced with other spices. "After I gave my instructions to the guards, I sped down and back across the palace until I came here. That was when I sent for Master Van Dyke and gave my orders. He'll be hunting Østerby now; that is if the miscreant isn't already dead. Were it any other man I would pity him at that man's hands, but after what he did to you, to our little Ariel, what I suspect he wants to do … I'll have no mercy upon him. Nor should you, Eric, lest he or his kind come for her again."


	14. Chapter 12 - Norwegian Steam

**_Publication Date:_**_ Tuesday, July 14h, 2015_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 12 – Norwegian Steam**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 12:45 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

_"If it were not for sailors, it would be a pleasure to go to sea." – The officer's opinion._

_"Ho' much farther Henrik?" __a voice called up from below._

A long fir spar inched up the side of the mainmast of _Lyn_, held by a sturdy line rove through the eye of the dark iron endcap that crowned its upper half. Lines fore and aft to the fore and mizzen masts stood by to steer the long pole into place once it had reached the topmast cap. Two men stood there on either of its sides, each man quite sizeable, but the largest of the four … he was truly a giant.

_"Hoist 'er up a rut now, fellows!" _Knudsen shouted back down, leaning out and over the rail looking down to the deck far below.

Henrik Knudsen had been huge even as a boy, having reached a full six feet by his fourteenth birthday, a height seldom heard of, especially for one so young. He had bettered it by another ten inches and more by his eighteenth birthday and also gained a prodigious physique to match, making the blond giant easily the strongest man of the _Lyns_ and quite possibly the strongest man in all of Sankt Croix, if not the whole of the Jomfruøerne.

"Lookin' good up here, Ralf!" Knudsen called down again as he crouched to receive the upper end of the spar, with only his left hand on the rail of the cap standing between him and the deck far below. "Ready Bård?"

Below, Bård Orvik nodded looking back up, his right hand held above his eyes to shield them from the early afternoon sun. "Aye Henrik. Got 'er now, do ya?"

Knudsen nodded, seizing the endcap line with his club of a fist and gripping it like a vice. "Aye!" Henrik shouted back down, then looking to the other three men who shared his perch, continued on in a quieter voice. "Tha's it fellahs, make 'er fast and let loose that cap."

The three other men moved quickly, Gregers Erdahl first followed by the other two as Knudsen watched to ensure his men worked with a care for their safety, spar line still in hand. Curiously he seemed to show little fear or even concern for his own well-being, strange considering his precarious unguarded position.

"Avast heaving down there!" Knudsen called back down to the dozen men who manned the jeer capstan below. "We'll turn 'er in a minute, then step 'er in!"

"Aye!" came a reply from below.

The line went slack as it was released. In an instant Knute Solberg took a heavy line to the spar's upper end and laid a good hitch about it, leaving but the inches needed for it to pivot. That way if it got loose it wouldn't go anywhere, particularly down. Unfastening the endcap, the sailor lowered it back to the deck and the hand waiting for it below.

Below, Rålf Bjornstad fed the line back into the capstan which his crew then turned to bring the aft hawser taut before heaving about to turn the topmast spar upward.

Solberg and Erdahl stood, taking a moment's respite as the work continued below to ready for the next stage of stepping the main topmast. The pivot would be the hardest part of the job and by far the most dangerous as well. Knute wiped his brow, looking over to Gregers. Pulling his shirt over his head, then taking it into callused hands, Solberg wrung the sweat from it in a series of hard twists, then unwinding it wiped his brow with the still damp cloth as he fought to catch his breath. "Ever thought you would see this sort of heat at the knock o' winter?"

"Nay, no' before we left Pollen and Merdø behind I sure didn't." Gregers returned, chuckling. "Ne'er did I think to see another princess again either, and so close."

"Nor be servin' the House o' the prince!" Knute added with a grim smile as he threw his shirt back over his head. "Have ta' admit, this year … been full o' surprises."

"Well, _a_ prince." Gregers corrected his friend. "And, aye to be sure it has." The man paused, wiping his brow once again. "Pretty thing though, the l'il poppet, witch or no."

"Poppet? Wha' are you two going on about?" Knudsen grumbled from behind the two.

"Why, your _'sea witch'_ Henrik, my friend." Gregers replied, kneeling down to look at the socket soon to be occupied by the newly lifted spar as he began to make taut his line.

Knudsen grunted, otherwise ignoring the jibe and keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

Beside him Solberg greased the topmast cap's rail both before and beneath the spar, packing a handful on either side of its near end.

"Henrik, we're ready to haul on 'er again down here when you say so!" a voice called up.

Knudsen nodded. "That's it lads, at the ready." Knudsen said quietly, a steadfast calm in his voice. Watching his men take their positions, he called back below to the mate at the capstan "Hale up, Ralf!"

This time, the lower hawser hanging out to the foremast drew taunt and started to pop and creak, once again lifting the weight of the spar, but this time from its bottom outward. Slowly its outer end began to rotate upward while its near end remained anchored to the rail of the mainmast cap. A half dozen men at points below the mainmast cap and top prodded at the spar with fathoms-long long poles, steering and steadying it until its far end hung suspended well above the anchored end.

"Tha'll do, avast heavin'!" Henrik called. The spar's movement and the pulling of the lines came to a halt. "'Right then, Gregers, Knute, pay 'er out now. Watch 'er though when she catches the grease an' slips."

The two men held their stations at either side of the spar, its near end now perched on the rail of the cap with its end weight bearing down, its full quarter ton ready to crush any man in its path if it got loose, or else carry him down below to his death if it fell. Slowly the spar's near end slid inward as the line from the foremast drew it upward. Then it caught the grease and the earth's pull did the rest, drawing the spar down and inward as its own plummeting weight pulled it erect.

With a loud '_boom_' it dropped into its seat within the maintop below.

Cheers and whistles erupted from below as Knudsen turned with a fleeting smile to Erdahl and Solberg. Bård Orvik and Bjørg Thorsen went about aligning the newly made topmast, assisted by the linemen on the mizzen and fore. They had to work quickly, for the much smaller and hopefully far less challenging topgallant mast was yet to follow this one and time was growing short after the interruption that morning.

"More like to a corn poppy I think." Thorsen quipped, having been conspicuously silent in the matter of "the sea witch," as Eric's princess had now become known, this epithet being bandied about more as a jab at his mountainous third mate than out of any sense of conviction that the Mate's accusations bore water. Insulting royalty was no laughing matter however, so in truth, the man's dark humor veiled the deeper sea of misgivings now awash among all their shipmates, and each of the four men knew it.

Knudsen and the other two old hands looked at the dark-haired seaman, who noting the silence looked back at them. Seeing the confusion in their eyes, he continued. "Not a poppet … a poppy, right?!" he laughed "…that bright red hair of hers. Ne'er seen any lass wi' quite tha' color, e'en in the nor' o' Albany and Eire."

While the four men and even Ralf below had grown up in the Sørlandet country of Norway, they mostly kept to English or Danish when at work. Most of the _Lyns_ were Danes, but given that the de facto tongue of the Jomfruøerne was English, using that tongue seemed a practical concession and kept their skill in it fresh. Still, sometimes the words, especially plays upon the same, didn't quite resonate, as had been the case with Thorsen's quip about the mysterious Princess's breathtaking appearance. It took the men a bit to see their friend's humor.

"I'm startin' ta' think you're all under 'er spell too, else tha' or daft." Knudsen said as he turned and went back to his labors.

"Henrik, spell or no, it's not a good policy to go about, cowin' young Eric's bride-ta-be."

"An' how do we know that? Ain't been no banns have there? Else were there I'd ha' said something'."

"Bjorg, it ain't ju' Henrik, we all heard the stories too, from men we know, _good_ men. Fanciful they seem if ya' ask me but there's no doubt somethin' happened out there that night. It ain't hard ta' figure _that_ out."

"Not just us tha' feels so either." Gregers added. "A lot o' the men feel the same way. _Witches_, they're a fierce lot to have bearin' against ya."

"Not sayin' they ain't, but how do ya' think _tha'_ little poppy is one?" Thorsen shot back. "Near as I could see the worst she did was trip and fall, no' how I would think a witch ta' be. An' no sooner than tha' you were lashin' into her, Henrik ya' mome."

"Right, well, I heard the rumors too, Bjørg ya' pettifog, from Master Poulsen no less, and he was _there_, he saw it, saw it all"

"Saw what Henrik?" Thorsen asked, disregarding the man's chiding riposte.

"Tha' thing, tha' sirene, tha' storm tha' gathered." He paused, standing then to look out over the placid waters of the channel "… and tha' shadow tha' rose out o' the deep, out there in the offing."

The men continued dressing the topmast as a silence descended between them.

As he worked with the other three to anchor the spar into place, Knudsen remembered a smiling little boy when he was himself just a lad, showing him the knots he had learned, going aloft the first time, scouring out the seams in the deck with prayerbooks like any of the other men, like a little brother. Such a laugh and spirit that boy had, especially for one who had suffered so much. To be a prince didn't absolve one's life of pain or loneliness, that much was sure, but their little Prince had found his playmates and friends where he could, even among lowly folk and sailors such as himself.

"We owe it ta' Eric ta' look out for him, havin' lost his mum and 'is papa not wantin' 'im, save as a pawn in that game for the Crowns." Henrik looked back at the other three. "He's one o' _us_. Can't just let some ... some … some sirene _witch_ drag him down ta' Davy Jones."

"You ain't alone Henrik. From wha' I hear, the folk that were there have been a talkin' the same, an' all o' what you was sayin' from earlier this morn. Witches, mermaids, the lot of it. Hard ta' tell what's true and what's no', but somethin' happened out there." Gregers added, not looking up from his fastenings.

"That' may be true, bu' Eric didn't look like he was anything other than himself, though he were angry, that was ta' be sure." Thorsen replied, casting a quick glance up to Knudsen. "I'd have been wroth too, if a troll like ta' you'd a looked ready to lunge at the pretty thing I fancied."

As the busy sailor spoke, Henrik Knudsen felt a sudden and strange sickness surge in his belly, a feeling akin to falling. Almost at the same time he caught a foul scent on their air like the stench of burning dung, at least he thought he did, yet there was barely a breeze, even up here in the tops. Still, Henrik couldn't shake the acrid odor now, something akin to the smoke of guns, foul and burning. His stomach lurched upward and he felt the taste of rich Jarlsberg and thick rye working its way back up his throat, afloat on a draught of dark ale, acid, and bile. He leaned over the rail, looking up, finding his gaze drawn inextricably to the North Tower of the palace as the world seemed to spin around him.

"At least, ya' should give 'er a chance?" Henrik heard Thorsen opining behind him, his voice seeming far, very far away.

In a great convulsion, Henrik's stomach heaved but nothing came forth, his unexpected retching causing the other three men to stand and look on in sudden alarm over to Knudsen as they made their way to his side; all with due care to the lofty heights at which they now stood. If there was anything their great north mountain troll was seldom if ever known to be, it was sick.

"Henrik lad," Thorsen said, "What's come over ya? You're ill?!"

Knudsen shook his head in sheer defiance of seeming weak, yet found his eyes riveted on the Palace, just above where the skywalk joined it. "Nay, 'tis nothin.'" he replied in a quiet and troubled voice.

"You need ta' get below lad, can't be sick up here. Sun got ya too?" Gregers asked, no small irony in his voice.

"Ain't goin' below. Still got work ta' do." Henrik replied, standing upright again stoically, his eyes still fixed.

"What is it lad? Henrik, what are ya' lookin' at?" Thorsen asked.

"Don't know. Just felt like that fine repast tha' Eric sent us was on its way back up."The giant stood there quietly for a moment."Lookin' at? Wha' do ya' mean?

_"What are ya' staring at?"_

At Thorsen's words Henrik focused, becoming aware at last of the object of his unbroken gaze, or rather one end of it; that tower of the palace at which he had been looking, but not seeing. Knudsen wondered why. Regaining his bearings he looked back to his mates. "I'm fine. Let's get back ta' work."

Returning to their toils, the men immersed themselves in the refitting of the main mast. Below them other _Lyns_ and hired hands worked to prepare the last spar to be hoisted aloft, followed by the many yards and new top hamper. Sails would come last, but time was wearing. There was still ample daylight left, but all such tasks demanded care, and care demanded time. Failure to pay each task its own proper due could in the end lead to the most severe of penalties; every hand aboard knew it. No shortcuts would be taken when the lives of the Prince and even that of his betrothed were at stake, suspect though she was.

Above, the ardent sun pursued its steady decline from its zenith, as those who watched the precious few hours remaining were well aware. Beneath mast and spar, upon the quay and dock itself, a hundred odd afternoon shadows crept eastward, each making its own little sundial, each silently ticking off the remains of the day, the time left for its pains to be made right, for its wounds to be if not healed … then salved.

* * *

_"A mermaid!"_

For the first time in years, Hans Sael felt young again as he rolled the thought and memory of this little Ariel over and over in his mind. It all made so much more sense now, the curiosity and fascination he had seen in her eyes and odd actions out upon the Quay, her innocent and faltering attempts to defend herself from Henrik Knudsen's accusations, the rumors about her and that night weeks ago. But Hans had known the truth when he had first seen her hadn't he? Perhaps it was just the thrill of the sudden and deliciously unexpected confirmation that had made him feel so spry.

The rumors were true; well _one_ of them was true. But if there _had_ been witchcraft that night it was as Hans had thought, it was not _this_ maiden's doing. As for Eric, well, he was under a spell to be sure, but it was merely the spell of his love for this beautiful young princess, and her own love for him. As to other details, who she was and from whence she came, Sael was sure he would find out more soon enough. Hans was rather good at finding out such things.

There was one thing on his mind however, something unusual from his trove, something he had held in special regard for many years now that reminded him so much of this maiden. _"Perhaps she might like it."_ he thought. For some unfathomable reason, his memory for Elna perhaps, Hans deeply wished to touch this little mermaid's heart.

As he flew down the stairs, he ducked back into the inner stairwell north of the Ballroom and exited into the silent Audience Hall. Owing to his prior conversation with the Captain, he slipped across its dark marbled floor as quietly as he could manage. As he went, Hans found himself strangely sad that the Captain wasn't there with him. He found that he had enjoyed the conversation on the way up to the Princess's chambers, teasing the young soldier a bit and plumbing the depths of his thoughts and feelings. He seemed like an interesting fellow, his quiet demeanor obviously masking things, but Hans would find out about those too soon enough now that he knew they were there to be discovered.

Hans Rubert Sael liked knowing the people around him, knowing about them, knowing how far and under what circumstances he could trust them. That propensity was one of the reasons he had had such a long and successful career at sea as well as ashore, for he had known many people over the years. Sael was a humble man, but keen of mind and very observant, and it was his fortune to have made many friends in many ports far and wide over his long years. Some friends were Princes, and ironically, some enemies too. _"Well, one each to be precise."_ The old fellow mused to himself.

Looking up, the sailor found himself unexpectedly standing at the eastern archway, staring at the great double oaken doors which now lay deep in the afternoon shadows, their fine polished surfaces and rich appointments of polished silver and brass almost concealed from view by the dark. It came as a bit of a surprise to him that he was now back at the same place in which his wounds had been treated before, for he had hardly noticed his path passing beneath him, so deeply absorbed in thought he had been. Almost in reply to his realization he felt a burning soreness in his back.

_"Don' hurt so bad_." he thought. _"Won't amount t' nothing', being clean an' all. Asides, they be tasks at hand."_

Hans turned the right door's brass handle, lifted its upper latch and pushed against the door. The bright light of middle afternoon at first trickled through the crack between the two great doors as they began to swing with only the softest creaking to be heard, then abruptly poured forth in a harsh golden flood as the doors swung open to reveal the yellow stone quay, _Lyn_, and the bay beyond. For a moment Hans could see nothing, being blinded by the great wave of heat and light that rolled in upon him. Lifting his left hand to shield his eyes, he stepped outside as his vision returned.

Low waves capped with white marched in toward the shore as the sea breeze continued its freshening, turning waters that had that morning been an inviting azure and green into something less friendly and grayer. The oppressive heat that had previously hung stagnant about the quay had now become a warm breeze blowing inland; pennants and sailcloth flapped and shuddered from the dock and Lyn, from the palace heights above, their metal fittings ringing in an uneven rhythm as they beat over and over again against their mountings, staves, and occasionally each other.

What greeted the old sailor was a surfeit of soldiers, almost the entire palace guard it seemed standing out there before him upon the quay. There were men everywhere, carrying timbers, line, nautical stores and all manner of items useful to the working of wood and cloth. Wagons on the shore were lowering their burdens to the strand below where work boats ferried them out to the dock and_ Lyn _herself. The waters near the shore lay turbid in brown sandy clouds where the boats had landed and departed, churning up the bottom with the incessant activity of long oars and wet feet. Most important to Hans though was that the dock now lay adorned above by a bonnet of clean buff sailcloth, one that stretched from side to side, its breadth stretching out between the twin colonnades of six-fathom spars. It was just as old Sael had envisioned it.

"Aye, there she be, jus' as I'd a' seen her." The old man smiled, muttering to himself as he always did when one of his good ideas came to fruition.

One of the soldiers to his right took notice of his appearance on the pier and alerted the Sergeant who stood not far away. Sergeant Lundgren turned and looked, studying Sael for a moment, being well aware of what had previously transpired that morning between the old sailor and his Captain. Stepping towards the archway, the Sergeant loomed over the old man.

"Good afternoon Master Sael," he opened respectfully in a deep but otherwise surprisingly refined voice that almost rumbled like a low thunder from within him. "I trust all went well on your errand?"

Hans was startled at the attention and snapped his head to his right up in surprise at the towering soldier. Lundgren's height seemed only amplified by the immaculately tailored and groomed uniform and the tall shako hat he wore like the rest of the Guardsmen. Hans had heard stories about this fellow, his gallantry during the raids, and reckoned that he was probably the only man he had seen in the Guard who might match Henrik Knudsen pound for pound in strength. He hoped his speculation wouldn't come to the test.

"Aye, tha' it did Sergeant." He replied, wondering what the man's interest was, but guessed. "If'n yer wondrin', th' good Captain went wi' tha' Prince after tending' the young Princess."

Lundgren nodded, seemingly satisfied as he looked back out and down to the Docks, and then over to the shoreline. "Thank you Master Sael, I had been just about to ask. I shall not impede you further."

Hans nodded with a slight but nervous smile and proceeded along his way toward the dock, returning his mind to the matters at hand. The first order of business was to find out where the repairs stood, he had been away from them too long and Hans knew it. Where had the time gone since he had accompanied the Captain to the Princess's suites? He looked up at the sun, now strangely westering as though it was midafternoon rather than just before luncheon. He turned his eyes back toward his goal.

In the distance on the quarterdeck of _Lyn_ beyond the paulin he saw Captain Larsen. There was no doubt the old Master would be incensed at Sael's prolonged absence, Hans knew the man too well from their many voyages together; he would have to make it right and to make sure the repairs were proceeding as required, even if the men had to work all night and sleep the whole next day before _Lyn_ set sail.

Tomorrow was Sunday, and because no one worked on the Sabbath all must be finished before midnight. Sailing was a different matter though, and Hans kept that thought in the back of his mind in the event of need. Still, it wouldn't be too long now before the November daylight began to fail. The old sailor made a straight line for the ship.

Passing through two lines of workmen busying themselves at various tasks of carpentry, Hans saw that the splintered upper mainmast had been replaced along with a pair of broken spars. The rigging thereto had been struck to do so, and Hans expected that to spell trouble. Re-rigging a ship, even one mast, was hardly a small matter, it took time … and good light. It was hardly a surprise though, for Sael himself had given the order to make those very repairs upon their arrival quayside early that morning. Some things were a matter of necessity.

As Hans made his way through the crowd, a few men looked up and over at him, but otherwise seemed to pay him no mind; they were engrossed in their work. As he dropped down the dozen and a half steps to the dock passing into the new and welcome shade offered by the paulin, he noted a large table set up on its south side. Loaves of dark bread, wheels of good cheese, and what looked to be water casks and even a couple of kegs of ale sat upon it. Most of the wheels were now just rinds and the loaves crusts; at least his lads had eaten. Hans smiled and remembered exactly who had seen to that, hoping that the lads knew too and that they appreciated it as much as they should. It was a better meal than most of the men would have likely had while at such work. Eric hadn't needed to do that.

Hastening up the gangplank to _Lyn_, Hans turned left, and found much to his surprise found himself looking straight into Matthias Larsen's narrow eyes.

"Well, Master Sael, it's about time you joined us!" Larsen paused, letting his words catch in the breeze, but not for long. "Where the devil have you been off to?! Were you not supposed to be supervising all of this?!" he snapped, more than a few craftsmen turning to look before going about their tasks.

"Ah, well … err, Captain, somethin' sort o' … came up." Hans replied, realizing his hat was still tightly rolled up in the back of his belt, as it had been since he entered the Princess's bedchamber. He had forgotten to don it upon leaving the palace.

"Came up!?" Larsen replied, quietly now, his voice audible to perhaps him and Sael alone, but no less forceful and accusing.

"Aye."

"Well, _what is it_? Where have you been man?"

Hans looked down at the deck for a moment. "I been up wi' th' Prince sir, tending the Princess. She been a' taken ill." he offered in a similarly hushed voice.

Larsen just stood there, his mouth slowly opening in apparent disbelief.

"The _Princess_?!" Matthias scoffed until a sly grin turned the right corner of his mouth upward. "Hans, the truth now, we haven't got all day." The Captain's mood lightened in amusement at what he thought to be one of the old hand's legendary jests. "Come now, tell me quickly, daylight will soon fail us."

Hans looked at Larsen, an earnest look in his eyes, one that seemed almost hurt at being so questioned. "Captain, aye, I been a known ta tell a sea story er two, but lyin' ain't never been m' way.

Larsen blanched. _"Hans! You can't be serious?!"_

"No, no Cap'n, it be a true tale. Cross m' heart." Hans said, crossing himself so poorly that he would have been refused admittance to any self-respecting church that required the gesture.

"You … _you are_ _serious_!" Larsen whispered, grabbing Hans by the shoulder and pulling him over to the outboard railing. "I heard what happened while I was seeking an audience with the Prince. Is she _well_?"

"Aye, she be a fine now, sleepin' I reckon as she were when we left 'er side." Sael paused in thought. "Been a lot fer 'er t'day I think. Maybe more'n th' poor lass could bear."

Larsen lowered his head. "None of this would have happened had I been here. I'd have set Henrik straight on that sharp tongue of his, given him the lash I …"

"Cap'n." Hans interrupted. "Ya' ain't gonna please neither 'er ner Eric by whipping young Knudsen or no one else. Ol' Hans don' think she'd a like that a' all, no' a bit." The old man raised his eyebrows slightly as he met the Captain's eyes, nodding once as he did so. "But … ya' might make 'er cry if ya' did."

Again, Larsen just stared at the old sailor, the blood now draining from his face.

"Eric … _Prince _Eric, he'll be a comin' out soon here. Had a matter ta' fix first wi' tha' Lord Grimsby." Hans looked back towards the palace then briefly up at the sun. "When he do come, he's a goin' ta' try to talk some sense into that lame ox o' ours, Henrik."

Larsen nodded. "Yes, and …?"

"Where is tha' lad anyhow? I don't see 'im a' all."

"Aloft. Henrik's been leading the repairs since you disappeared, just took over along with Chips and Sails getting her seaworthy again. He's up the mainmast now, refitting the topgallant. Finished the topmast earlier." Larson stepped forward, toward the eyes of the ship, leaving Sael where he stood.

Hans looked almost straight up, and sure enough standing barebacked astride the topgallant cap framed by the cloudless blue sky was the young giant Henrik Knudsen, calling to another man across from him. "Now ag'in, step 'er down easy." Hans faintly heard the man cry from aloft as he saw him and two other hands working to maneuver the spar into place where it would resume its former position. Re-rigging the top hamper would follow.

Hans saw the sailor pause to wipe the sweat from his brow before he returned to the task of stepping the new spar into place. How exactly the men had gotten both spars up there at all was beyond the Sael's immediate ken, though he might have guessed. In any case the effort must have been Herculean. Then again, in terms of strength and marlinspike alone there was no better man onboard than Henrik. As Hans watched, he could see a dozen other sailors busying themselves in that effort up there alongside, above, and around him, all working at Knudsen's command.

Looking about, Hans quickly surveyed the work going on about Lyn. There was a smell of fresh paint and thick lacquer in the air. Sails had been replaced with new ones, their color that of eggshells almost white, and a vast crew of artisans, workmen and sailors busied themselves at the task of restoring _Lyn_ not just to seaworthiness, but it seemed back to her virgin beauty. The ship was almost new, having arrived only in September from Havana, having come such that the Household had hardly noticed the loss of _Havfrue_ after she had foundered and her magazine exploded, nearly taking Eric down with her. During such long voyages however, storm or no, the sea always took its toll; thus wood was being reworked and replaced everywhere Hans looked, and wherever he looked, what he saw wasn't a crew in the act, but instead a disciplined army.

At various spots about the deck he saw his best sailors directing the work, speaking with the landsmen artisans about the tasks being undertaken. Back on the stern behind the quarterdeck a fresh sheen of black paint was being laid neatly over newly primed and sealed wood. An aft lantern was being replaced and the glass of the other two above the taffrail refitted with fresh and crystal clear panes. That all of this was happening, that it had happened almost entirely without his direction or guidance; it made Hans Sael feel strangely unneeded; unneeded … and old.

_"Ta' be sure Eric's a makin' th' 'morrow ta' be a fine one fer his li'l lady."_ the old sailor thought.

The work underway was certain to have cost a small fortune when it was done, for no such work done well yet swiftly was ever cheap. Letting his gaze fall off aft to the wheel, Hans felt the joy of his recent discovery about their new Princess quenched by the burden of uselessness, and of the many years piled upon him. His was a time that had come and gone, he felt; he had overstayed his welcome. He thought of his beautiful little Elna, his beloved Kathrine, and wondered how long it would be … how long it would be until he saw them once again.

* * *

Bjorg Thorsen and Henrik Knudsen crouched as they worked to align and secure the topgallant mast. Up so high there was little room to maneuver and even less for error. A precarious foothold either side of the crosstees balanced only by their hold on the topgallant spar before them is all that spared them from the twenty fathom plummet into the yards and onto the deck below. Both had worked these tops for many years however, and being able-bodied tall-water men were masters at their craft. They were comfortable aloft, suspended against the sky by their talents and wills alone.

"How's she look?" Knudsen asked quietly, a gust of the now freshening warm sea breeze catching the loose linen of his shirt and making its loose hanging tails billow.

"All a-taunto." Thorsen replied, looking down to the yards below.

"Ready for the top hamper then. Cap should be waitin'."

"Got th' first o' it down 'ere." Came a gruff voice from below.

The men looked down. There hanging off the topmast was the Master's Mate Hans Sael, the first of the new rigging in hand.

Knudsen looked around the spar to Thorsen, "Le' me unship m'self 'ere and go talk to 'im, see wha' 'e wants. Shouldn't be long." With that Henrik began to scale his way down, one foot and one hand at a time followed by the next pair, until he dropped and alighted before the old man.

Hans locked eyes with the Third Mate, having to look quite a ways up to do so at such a close distance. Knudsen looked back. Neither men bared any emotion, showed any feeling on their faces as they took each other's measure, but their bodies seemed tense, drawing apart from one another in every minute move as though impelled by some mysterious force of nature.

Sael looked to the topmast, patting it with his right hand, holding out the lead line in his left to Knudsen. He looked about to the newly raised yards and rigging being put back into place. "Fine Norwegian steam this all be, lad." he offered.

Henrik nodded then looked back then down to the deck. "Half Dansker, don't forget old man." He replied with a smile, taking the lead in hand.

"Ah, no, I don't." Sael sighed. It was quiet for a moment, just the waft of the breeze and cries of distant gulls disturbing the silence. "No' so good a' mornin' were it, eh lad?"

"No … tha' it wasn't." Knudsen looked over at the old man. "Hans, I'm sorry, I was just lookin' out for our Eric. I know ya' don't believe me, half th' men don't, but I'm _sure _I'm right." Henrik seemed somehow a bit smaller then, more like a boy pleading with his father than a full grown man when he spoke, the regret in his voice clear to the old salt by the quiet tone he took, like a parishioner seeking absolution from his priest.

Thorsen slipped down the mast, passing them both by, the other hands below retreating as well as word of the parley spread. All knew to give old Hans Sael a wide berth, not so much out of fear, but of respect long ago earned.

"I know y'er sure lad. An' I'm sure I'm right too. Ha' ya' e'er known me ta' be wrong as a judge o' folk?"

Knudsen thought for a moment then shook his head. "No, but t'was you y'erself tha' always went on abou' the seafolk. About wha' they could do, them sirene songs o' theirs lurin' sailors ta' drown."

"Don' think you was a callin' 'er a _mermaid_ if I recall Henrik Knudsen," Hans said quietly with a slight smile as he looked out toward Christiansted, noting to his surprise a man-o-war rounding the point northeast of Gallows Bay, the broad stripes and blue union of her ensign flying proudly in the freshening breeze, plain for all to see, even at this distance. "Word I seem ta' recall ya' used was '_witch'_."

Knudsen nodded. "Maybe. Tha's wha' the talk was afore we left for Boston. Some o' the wrights say 'tis the' word on the Isle as well."

"She ain't no _witch_ Henrik." Sael replied. "She's just a sweet, confused little girl tha' wouldn't ne'er hurt nothin', much less our young Eric, ta' who 'er heart be given."

"How do ya' know Hans, how _can_ ya?"

"Well, I jus' spent abou' an hour wi' Eric in her bedchamber where she been trying to heal tha' heart o 'ers from what' ya' done ta it this mornin'."

"What _I_ done to her?" Knudsen replied, a puzzled look clouding the younger sailor's face.

"Scared 'er outta 'er wits." Sael stopped, caught up in some thought. "Damned Doctor did no' help a whit e'er." he muttered.

"_Doctor_? What Doctor?"

"Don't ya' mind now. So, why're ya' so amenable to quiet talk now as opposed ta' th' morning' lad. T'was no reasonin' wi' ya' then."

Were his face not so flushed now from the sun, Knudsen would have turned a fair red, instead, he looked down again. "Don't feel so boxed in now."

"_Boxed in_?!"

"Hans, I was jus' speaking' my mind, it ain't me alone that has cares! And then I hear this sound like a girl cryin' and there behind me _she was_! An' as soon as I know i' you're a layin' into me as fierce like ta Old Harry himself. Then if that ain't enough, then half the' damned Guard came down on me. And that's all _before_ Eric showed up!"

"Aye lad, don't ferget, I was there, an' ready ta break e'ery one o' yer teeth fer wha' ya ha' said and done ta' th' maid."

Henrik looked at his old teacher, the man who had practically been his father as he had to half the _Lyns_ since they had first sailed together in _Najaden_ all those years ago. "Hans, tha' wasn't the Eric we know, looked li' the' devil 'imself were in 'im. Never seen 'im like that afore."

"Lad, little Eric ain't never been in _love_ afore."

"In love with a _witch_. Under her _spell_."

"No lad, jus' a fair maid in love, plain, simple an' true. I saw it, saw it fer myself, no' jus' out here, but up _there_."

Knudsen followed Hans' outstretched hand and forefinger with his eyes, seeing it alight on the very same North Tower of the Christiansborg that had drawn his attention earlier. Immediately his guard was raised. "An wha' happened up there Hans?" he asked, a soft but tense tone.

"Eric trying ta' comfort the poor thing. Stricken by the sun she was, then tha' damndable doctor a' came. Fer sure I knew he'd be nothin' but trouble."

"_Stricken_?"

"Ya." Hans replied, looking back to Henrik with a curious look at what had peaked the young man's interest.

"Hans. Do ya' want ta' know _why_ I reckon she's a witch?"

* * *

Hans drew his hand down along the seams of the mainmast's scarph joint as he made his way down the shrouds, foot under foot down the ratlines until at last he alighted on the deck. He had been taken aback by Knudsen's question, thinking for no good reason that the matter of witchcraft close to being resolved, then realizing with a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was not. The young sailor's voice echoed in his mind.

_"A first, it was tha' hair o' hers. Tha' red, so strikin'. Color o' a witch red 'tis Hans, a red like flame suc' as tha'. Straight out o' Hell itself too, er so th' ol' folk'ld say."_

The old sailor's hand went to the formerly splintered rail, finding its condition excellent, nearly as good as new if not even better, now just awaiting priming and a coat of paint. Looking up he saw the top hamper bonnet of rigging being run down from the peaks of the mast to the maintop beneath it. As it had before, the work was proceeding handily under Knudsen's leadership, and without _his_.

_"An' on account tha' when she had Eric holdin' her an' she turned ta' face me, I stared 'er down, asked God to strike 'er down. An' He did. _

As Sael approached the brow he noted half a dozen barrels being rolled aboard, barrels and casks of fine water and wine no doubt from the same reserves of the Prince that had nourished the lot of them earlier that day; perhaps from a stock even finer.

_"That's when she buckled and fell back, back into Eric." _

There was ice, in great cut blocks in blond wooden boxes lined with hay, discernible by the dripping tails of water that trailed back into the southern House of the Christiansborg, a rare commodity in so warm a clime, precious for its cold so alien to the isles of the Caribbean Sea where never ice nor snow had even once been seen in its natural state.

_Felt sorry for her I did Hans, when she fell a' first, wonderin' how could a witch jus' break so easy li' tha', tha' maybe I was wrong. Bu' then I tho' better o' it an' remembered lil' Eric, an' all them tales ya' told us abou' mermaids tha' yer papa told you. _

_E'en if she weren't a witch, then may be she was tha' very sirene Master Poulsen spoke of. One beautiful with hair like flame an' a fish's tail like malachite, a Godless fay. Not spells then, but th' sirene's voice an' song tha' lures good men ta' their deaths down in th' deep._

Down the brow Hans went, his feet settling onto the dock with almost a whisper as he turned toward the northeast stanchion and stepped over to it.

_"Tha' little girl ain't no devil. No lad, no' a devil bu' an' angel; no' a nigh'mare but a dream, no jus' fer Eric bu' fer us all." __Sael had paused, his left hand anchored to the mast, his right to the rail. "With her comes a little hope I think." Knudsen had just stood before him, unmoving, clutching the lead line in his left hand._

Looking up the length of the tall spar Sael inspected the corner lashings that held the paulin taut in place. His men had set the great awning in place well. Wildly now it fluttered as it caught the breeze above him, filling the dock below with its snapping chatter as it shrouded the pier in its cool and pleasant shade, deep now that the sun was arcing lower into the west.

_Ya' see, the Almighty answered my prayer Hans, 'er spells had no power against me, like it seemed they did on everyone else, e'en you. An' if it's jus' me left standin' agin' the storm, so be it. I got the Lord on m' side, and neither me nor Him is goin' ta' let tha' thing drag ya' both down into th'abyss."_

_Hans' heart had dropped as he realized he was in a losing battle of faith with his Third Mate. He could see the rising spirit of righteous confirmation in Knudsen's eyes, growing like a flame, confirmation that he himself had stupidly delivered. _

_"Henrik lad." __Sael asked, looking sadly into the younger mate's eyes. "When' ya' been havin' yer little parleys wi' the Lord … ha' ya' e'er once tried listenin' 'stead o' talkin'?"_

_For moment Hans had thought he had seen the blood drain from the young man's face, a look of shock and reflection disturbing the giant's previously implacable confidence._

Soon the day would seek its rest behind the East Wing of the Palace and the shadows would grow long, the evening cool. The men would need good lanterns to light what work would go on thereafter well into the night. As for what had been already done, all looked good, better than the old man could have hoped for to be honest, though he wished he had had a hand in all of it.

_"Henrik, can I ask ya' a question?"_

_Knudsen nodded, a grim smile spreading across his face as he over once again to the North Tower and the Princess's apartments._

_"Be they anythin' tha' could convince ya' otherwise?"_

_Knudsen shook his head, "Naught bu' th' Hand o' God himself."_

Stepping over to the long cloth-covered table, Hans took a heel of dark rye and a hunk of cheese in hand, biting off a bit of the first as he looked up again toward the North Tower of the Palace, then turned on his heel and made a straight shot for the arched doors he had twice passed through this day. Even though he had failed at trying himself to talk some sense into Henrik Knudsen, the Prince needed to know what had transpired, as well as what Hans had learned.

Night was coming to the island all too soon.


	15. Chapter 13 - Reflections of a Lonely Hou

**Author's Note: **_I've found as "Sael" has progressed that it has demanded ever more time to express the thoughts and visions that present to me in my imagination. Some themes are elaborate and tie into others stories such as "Atalantë," stories and vignettes which wouldn't fit properly into the body of Sael itself, but remain essential to understanding why Ariel and Eric in particular think and react as they do. There are hints strewn throughout the chapters at the greater story I am attempting to weave, and I'm hoping that you as my will readers find these rewarding and tantalizing._

_Carlotta has long had a place in my heart, her loving but gently stern way with Eric indicates the depth of her care for the boy, something upon which Sael touched in chapter 6. "Mothers and Daughters" began in my mind as a further exploration of not just that relationship but its implications for the likely relationship that Eric's mother in all but name would have with Ariel. We clearly saw how much she liked the girl even from the moment she met her and took her for a bath, then brought her to have dinner with Eric and Grim. I think I've found those sentiments echoed in others' writings here, along with the desire to know more._

_So here it is, the beginning of it at least, in the first part of "Mothers and Daughters," a prelude to it really, with the main chapter soon to follow. _

_Converse R Life, LocalSportsTeam, Crisis Rose, TardisBlueMermaid, xSummersx, and Lugubrious DBB, thank you so much for your stories and thoughts. They have provided much to inspire me and to emulate, and you would be surprised to learn of how often I find myself perusing their pages and reflecting upon them. _

_**Publication Date:**__ Sunday, September 13th, 2015 (Emended and expanded quite a bit that same day. If you read it earlier in the day, there's more now. A bonus! Further editorial emendations, cover art links and acknowledgements added Sunday, April 10th, 2016). _

_As I review and revise chapters, I'm gradually adding the appropriate cover art and creative acknowledgements to other authors._

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 13 – Reflections ****of a Lonely Housekeeper**

_**~~~ Saturday, the 16**__**th**__** of November, 1805 AD ~~~**_

_**~ 2:30 p.m. ~**_

_**Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix**_

It was a cool wind, not nearly as hot nor as heavy as the sweltering airs that had now for weeks afflicted the Isles and their folk. It had its source in distant regions wherein the first hints of the oncoming winter might now be felt, regions far beyond the deep channel and seas that lay about the Jomfruøerne. As the afternoon wore slowly on, the little sea breeze continued to steal and play about the Princess's bower.

With a sylphian hand it teased at the twin curtains that graced the frame of the maiden's French window, causing them to surge and sway, to toss left then right; their diaphanous white mesh rippling and falling beneath its fine ministrations. Its voice was a whisper, a soft and almost imperceptible sigh that might only be heard if one listened with the utmost care.

The canopy of indigo, blue and gold that crowned the room's luxurious great bed shivered beneath its zephyr touch, rustling gently as the cool airs slipped down to caress the young maiden who slept beneath them. Almost lovingly the breath of the sea danced about her, at first playing in the fine strands of hair that framed her fair visage; then reaching out, softly caressed her face itself, a face sublime in innocent repose.

Gradually, the light of the westering sun began to peek through the same twin doors of her window, the window that stood open to the narrow balcony beyond. A mere handful of rooms within the Palace were so appointed, and only the finest, being these very Guestrooms along with the Royal Apartments at the opposite extent of the palace. As the sun followed its inexorable daily advance, its rays shone ever more brightly into the bedchamber, the largest of the suite of small rooms that comprised Princess Ariel's only home beyond the sea.

It was not the first time a young lady had slept within that room, nor a princess, Carlotta mused. No, first it had been Princess Juliane's when she and Charlotte had had visited their brother the year before; each had left their mark upon their boudoirs. Now, it had become the personal and beloved retreat of another Princess, and a most unusual and spirited one; one in her own way very different than Eric's sisters.

It was a room special to their new little princess, almost sacred to her Carlotta mused, for it was to this room that she had first been brought after her baptism in the fresh, sweet waters of the world above. It was here that she had first been dressed in human finery, had felt the luxuriant smoothness of silk against her own soft flesh, the elegant sensation of heels upon her diminutive feet. It had been in this room that she had first smelled the wonderful scents of flowers and perfume; that she had first felt a human hand taken to that long, indescribably red hair of hers as she had sat motionless before her mirror, transfixed by her own reflection. It was here that the young maiden had first stood on her own, here that she had taken her first steps upon virgin feet, from here that she had taken her first true and brave steps into the human world.

The smell of ocean spray, of the sand; the sound of crashing waves, of mewling of seabirds; they were in this room always in the air. It was a perfect sanctuary for a former mermaid, especially one who was very young … and very homesick.

When Carlotta Grimaldi had brought their young princess here just five weeks ago, she had truly wished to show the girl all the magnificent beauty that the Christiansborg Slot had to offer. Sadly, so few others from beyond the Isles had seen its majesty and fair lines, and this after the many years of planning and labor that had gone into the building of its tall ochre towers, its broad buff halls, its rooves of burnt orange Spanish tile. So few had seen its white marble steps that curved down into the surf itself beneath turreted towers, or its colonnaded skywalk, the beauty of which had so captivated the Housekeeper when she had first seen it from the bow of _Havfrue_ three long years ago.

It had been like a dream, a warm, waking summer dream when she herself had first looked upon it.

That a part of the palace had formerly been a fortress and before that a haven for pirates had always stirred mixed feelings within the woman. Mischief of that sort always left a dark mark upon the spirit of a place and in the Christiansborg this was no different. To this very day the Housekeeper avoided the barbicans, especially after the bloodshed of the raids when she almost lost not just Aubrey, but her little boy as well.

"_Those days are long passed, though, thank goodness."_ she thought, crossing herself unconsciously. _"… and besides, the eastern halls have no such memories."_

It had been only a few days after their new guest had been living with them that Carlotta had learned of the girl's delight that her balcony overlooked the outer barbican.

From her balcony, Ariel would often look down hoping to see Eric walking alone or out playing with Max as he often did in the evenings when Carlotta was readying the Princess for bed. Moments that the two were apart had become increasingly rare since Doctor Østerby's father had finally pronounced the girl in sufficient health to explore her new world, but Ariel's heart seemed to accompany Eric her every waking moment and beyond into sleep. It was a thoughtfulness and feeling that Eric returned in full, since he often went outside in the sheer hope that he might see her again before she retired and the remainder of his day began.

Despite its tragic past, the renovated fortification had always been a favorite of Eric's, its gardens being not only immediately outside his own apartments but also directly above both the Captain's quarters and the outer garrison of the Guard; thus Eric was close to friends.

Carlotta smiled at the thought, though she sometimes lamented that there were no other young men of his class, of even the nobility, with whom her boy might spend his time. What effect Eric's lack of such social experience might have if ever he were recalled she could only wonder; but she could hardly help her happiness at the quality of the men whom her boy had chosen as his friends and companions.

Fortunately, Eric's discernment of character was excellent, a quality that would serve him well if ever he were to wear either of the Two Crowns, to become King; it would serve him well both in his choice of ministers, and in his choice of his closest advisors. Among the latter, who could be more important and trustworthy than his wife; his truest and dearest love; and as the Lord intended, the woman who would accompany Eric for the rest of his life and perhaps beyond? Could it have even been possible for Eric to have to have chosen, to have even found, a girl more genuine and loving?

"_Seventeen tomorrow."_ Carlotta thought, looking at the young girl lying beside her, her delicate face framed by the incomparable scarlet and crimson hues of her hair as she slept.

Ariel had been arrayed in pink that day five weeks ago, blue the next; and upon reflection it seemed to the Housekeeper that perhaps no color could deny the intrinsic beauty in both body and soul that she carried within her. Even the old scrap of sailcloth Eric had wrapped her in when Carlotta first laid eyes upon the girl seemed pretty upon her. It had been as though the poor thing was unaware she was hardly wearing anything at all. Of course, that had been the very case, but she had hardly been aware of anything when she had first arrived, had she? Bless her heart.

The slight rise and fall of the young princess's breast seemed almost to keep time with the distant roll and crash of the surf out beyond the balcony doors. Had it been water instead of air filling her lungs, Carlotta thought, Ariel might have breathed just as slowly.

_A mermaid_. The very idea, the very thought itself, it still set the Housekeeper's mind spinning. Beyond the indescribable enchantment of love itself, Carlotta had never imagined such a fantastical being to be even remotely possible. Yet here she was, right before her eyes.

Carlotta had never seen the girl's storied emerald tail of course, this omission being the most regrettable result of her steadfast refusal to take part in that pernicious and false wedding between her Eric and that witch, that … _Vanessa_. From the moment she had heard the announcement from their shaken Aubrey, Carlotta had known; it took but a single look thereafter into Eric's lifeless eyes, that one refusal on his part to speak to her, to confirm her suspicions that something was wrong ... terribly wrong.

"_What of little Ariel? Did you just __forget __her__ Eric?"_ she remembered fuming and crying to herself as she had wracked her mind, trying to discern who that new woman could have possibly been.

At the time, mermaids and witches had been the farthest thing from her mind, though the way that that … _Vanessa_ … had spoken to her, it had set something off in Carlotta's heart, a strong sense of _wrongness_. The Housekeeper paused, looking absently-mindedly at her hand, wondering why she did so, but wasn't about to let go of those awful memories.

How she had played the virtuous savior, that _hussy_, while _the true innocent_ lay still asleep here upstairs in this very room. That morning Carlotta Grimaldi had done everything in her power to do something she had never before done, and hopefully something would never have cause to attempt again; she had tried to thwart the orders of her beloved Eric.

At first she had protested to Grimsby, then to Eric himself, and that was the straw that had broken the camel's back, the last straw; for Eric had simply stood there and said in reply _"If you must go, then be on your way."_ This to _her_, the woman who had raised him and loved him as her own son for the last twelve years of the boy's life. And all the while the _minx_ that held her Eric in her grasp had simply stood quiet at his side, her face the picture of placid innocence, but her strange violet eyes betraying something else.

_Ohhh!_ Carlotta could have ripped the woman from her boy right then and there, and _she would have_ had not that Aubrey Beauclerk and half the palace staff restrained her. By the time she had been dismissed forcibly from the parlor and had made her way back to her young charge's room however, little Ariel had disappeared. It was only then that she had sought the Captain's help in finding their foundling castaway.

The memory, no, just the thought of that morning made Carlotta Grimaldi ache; it stirred in her a dull pain, a pain hidden within a seething anger the likes of which she hadn't felt since those many years ago when Charles took her own little girls away from her … her poor little girls. The Housekeeper raised her free hand to her eyes, wiping away the tears welling from them. It was said that time heals all wounds. That is what they _said_, but Carlotta Grimaldi knew those words for the lie they were. Some memories never got better, some wounds never healed.

As she sat there thinking, she absent-mindedly reached over to the girl's nightstand to gather a new napkin, but paused as she looked at Ariel sleeping beneath her hand.

"_Oh, what all you must have given up for __love__ dear? That beautiful world beneath the sea that every bath and every night you tell me of, that one your heart clearly hasn't left behind … not yet entirely."_

The Housekeeper wondered if mere humanity was worth that sacrifice, even if it came with love – that most wonderful and rare of all of life's gifts, given all the pain that must inevitably accompany a human life. She wondered about the travails and hardships that would no doubt besiege her beloved boy and now her beloved little girl to whom she couldn't have helped but given her heart at first sight, as though she had been one of her own daughters reborn to her.

From the very moment Carlotta had set eyes on the girl, something in the woman had told her that this little angel was perfect for her little boy, and that he was perfect for her. Finding anyone better suited would have been utterly impossible for either of them. There had been other girls, other princesses and daughters of wealth and nobility, none of whom had come even close to capturing Eric's attention, much less his heart. Some had been very sweet girls, some very bright, many very pretty, a few even beautiful; but none had ever seemed right for Carlotta's little boy, her Eric. Not until Ariel, that is.

But when the Housekeeper had first seen little Ariel lying half-drowned and sunburnt, seemingly only half alive in Eric's arms that morning weeks ago, she had just _known_; just as she usually had about every one of Eric's other friends and confidants, beginning with Aubrey those many years back, the years before the fire. Eric had made many friends in the years since and it was to his fortune that good people seemed to be naturally drawn to him. The best men of the Guard and young Captain Carlson came to mind, though the good Captain remained something of an enigma.

When not at sea, Eric's days, his mornings especially, were spent with the soldiers of the Guard to the west of the palace upon the strand and in the woods, practicing against future raids, learning the art of war from the Captain and his Sergeants, and most importantly, the art and science of leadership. Now and then Eric and his friends would return sporting black eyes, bloody noses or some cuts or scratches from their rough work and play in the sand and woods, and then Carlotta's motherly attentions would begin again.

"_Better that be his pastime than the debauchery of his peers." _the woman thought, thanking the Blessed Virgin that her boy had steered for himself a straight and moral path, though she knew that she had not only herself but Aubrey too to thank for that blessing. Likewise, Captain Carlson and Sergeant Lundgren couldn't have been better examples for him if they had tried, which the Housekeeper had no doubt they did.

Since he had come during the raids, the Captain had become one of Eric's closest companions, not just an advisor, but a friend. His curious return to the Princess's bedchamber, the caring look he had directed toward the Princess and then Carlotta, it affirmed in the Housekeeper's mind that their safety lay in good hands.

She wondered though what thoughts must have been on his mind, what feelings he must have held in his heart in that moment; she had seen such longing before in the wistful gazes of young men, and had once long ago returned the same. It was no secret that the Princess's beauty captivated many both within and about the palace, and even in town; and Carlotta Grimaldi knew love when she saw it. Was that what his look had betrayed?

Beyond the twin arches of the bedroom doors, each muffled tick of the gallery's grandfather clock could be dimly discerned, slowly marking the passage of every second of the day.

"_Only so many for each of us."_ Carlotta thought as the afternoon drew on.

Now a leech bite will bleed for hours, even if tended properly and with care, thus it was a measure of love the Housekeeper gave as she leaned over the young girl from the uncomfortable footstool upon which she sat, trying not to disturb the slumbering hairy sheephound at her feet. It had been some time since the napkins had been changed, and the stack of clean ones had dwindled to but four. In the basin beside them were perhaps a dozen roughly folded cloths, each stained with scarlet and crimson hues only a little darker than Ariel's hair itself, but gradually … growing darker.

No sooner had Eric left the room than Carlotta Grimaldi had taken his place at Ariel's side, pulling the ornate mahogany stool upward alongside the sleeping girl's bed from where it had been set when Eric had kissed her and stood.

As the Housekeeper kept the napkins pressed against the girl's wounds, she took a moment to take in her young charge's beauty. From her head to below her waist the girls' luxuriant, thick hair flowed down her sides like a river of scarlet and crimson fire, sometimes the former, sometimes the latter, sometimes both; its color seemed unique and almost alive in its variability under different moods of light. Compared to the other two examples of red hair that Carlotta had felt, Ariel's hair seemed not only exceptional in its buoyancy, but also remarkable in its fine softness. Surprisingly, it was also sometimes quite difficult to control, seemingly having a mind of its own … just like the young princess herself.

"_All passion, and no patience."_ Carlotta smiled lovingly, whispering to herself as she raised her right hand to stroke the young maiden's hair, forgetting entirely once again that she had previously been reaching for fresh napkins.

Ariel was lissome and petite yet quite shapely as well; her limbs, fingers, and toes slender and delicate yet perfectly formed, all the more remarkable given that she had been born with neither legs nor feet. Her fair skin and complexion were flawless, without even a single freckle so far as the Housekeeper could tell, a fact which, quite frankly, astonished the woman.

Triton's youngest daughter was at the cusp of womanhood and, at least bodily, ripe for motherhood; this much she and Carlotta had already learned during the last two weeks since the girl had been with them, much to Ariel's dismay and embarrassment. Whether she was ready also in heart and mind as well, only the coming months and years might tell; but, oh, there would be time.

Despite Aubrey's anxious concerns, there was no need in rushing things, no need in rushing _them_.

Looking upon Ariel, it seemed to Carlotta that the Lord must have fashioned these Merfolk among his most beautiful creations, for while she had seen human women of a beauty comparable to Ariel's, they were quite rare. Indeed, Ariel was among the loveliest of girls Carlotta had ever seen, but it was her sweet demeanor and personality that shone most beautifully above all, her kind and caring nature, her innocence and wonder that defied the curse of meanness that so often seemed to accompany such comeliness in other girls. Could it be that the Merfolk were, in this way too, more beautiful than common humanity?

That she had not always been human still astonished Carlotta, for Ariel to her seemed so _very_ human, and nothing at all like the capricious and dangerous fae beings of myth and folklore, such as they were supposed to be. She was intelligent, curious, warm, and loving; she had a dreaming soul. Given all of this, how could her future children with Eric be anything but blessed? When they came, they would be smart, spirited, and very likely beautiful … everything a mother and father could ask for.

A low knock, barely more than a tap at the door caused Carlotta to look up.

"Mistress, I've brought fresh water and ice, some hot tea too along with a small luncheon for you and the Princess." a girl's voice half whispered from beyond the door.

Carlotta instantly recognized the voice as Gertrude's, another hapless waif she had taken in her affection, though some might say adopted, since Captain Larsen brought her over from Copenhagen last year. The Housekeeper smiled replying in her own hushed voice. "Open the door dear, come in."

A crack appeared along the join between the two doors as they swung slowly inward. Outside the two young Guardsman each held open a door for the girl while young Gertrude smiled prettily at the blond boy on the right, thanking him and the other private. It was a smile that he clearly returned.

Turning her head back to the room with some reluctance, the young maid looked over to the Princess's bed, a large silver tray suspended between her hands, all the while being careful not to let her long gray skirts catch on or topple anything. "How is she doing Mistress, is she _well_?" the girl asked, her voice still a whisper, an air of quiet caution in it.

"Oh, she's doing much better Gertrude, she's just had such a terrible day though, the poor thing." Carlotta replied, slowly shaking and turning her own head to follow the young maid.

"Where should I set this Mistress?" Gertrude asked, her eyes still fixed upon the sleeping princess in the bed beside her.

Carlotta thought for a moment. The far nightstand was too distant to be of use, the ice in the pitcher upon it now long since melted, yet there was hardly room on the nightstand beside her, what with the basin and the low platter of napkins it sat within. "If you would dear, why don't you set it down on the Princess's _bed_, then pull that end table over here behind me. You'll have someplace close to me then upon which to set it down."

The young maid looked beyond the foot of the bed to the northern side of the room and its seldom-used fireplace and sitting area. Setting the tray down beside the princess as she had been told, she stepped over to the low end-table and, wrapping both hands under its frame of dark polished oak, gave it a little tug. Thankfully, the rug upon which it sat slid smoothly upon the polished wooden floor beneath it.

Then Gertrude remembered, her blue eyes opening brightly as she spun around toward Carlotta beside her, causing her ash blonde hair to cascade down to just above her waist from what she had thought to be the neat bun when she had hastily arranged it in that morning. She ignored it, caught up then in the sudden excitement which gripped her.

"Oh! Mistress!" she started with a small squeak, quickly hushing herself, "Prince Eric left this with one of the guards outside before he left." Reaching into her apron, the girl, just barely a woman herself, brought forth in her right hand an envelope as her eyes once again alighted curiously upon the sleeping princess.

"She's always so lovely Mistress, even when she's asleep." The maid said with a strange hint of sadness in her voice as she began to rearrange her hair again.

"And so are _you _dear. You needn't be a princess to be beautiful nor to find true love, especially if you're already a princess and beautiful in your heart, and _you_ know what I mean young lady. Haven't we talked about this before? Nothing else really matters." Carlotta offered, knowing how lacking in confidence the girl could be despite her innocent charms that seemed obvious to everyone save the girl herself.

"And you _are beautiful_. For goodness sake, if there's anything you two have in common, it's that neither of you have any idea of how pretty you are." Carlotta continued, a gentle but chiding tone in her voice.

The Housekeeper paused, then smiled sweetly upon at the young maid from her low perch. "Now, just maybe though, that's for the best. That way when some nice boy finally comes and tells you so, you'll know to believe me! Now bring me that end table." she laughed softly.

At this Gertrude smiled brightly as she always did when her teacher and best friend tried to cheer her up and tell her that she was pretty. Gertrude, as usual however, just couldn't see it, and in truth thought she looked rather plain. So like always, she would pretend she believed Carlotta's motherly encouragement, and her happy smile would last and not fade until the next door closed behind her.

Turning to the end table, Gertrude finished pulling it across the floor to behind the older woman. Stepping around to the bed, she picked up the tray again and, coming back to the end table, brought it to rest upon the table's carven upper surface.

"Is that all Mistress?" she asked, setting soup bowls and finger sandwiches out on fine china plates.

"Yes dear, and thank you so much for remembering us, that was very sweet of you." Carlotta reached over and inspected the tray. "I can see Louis has been up to his best, the sandwiches smell _delicious_! And here I was starting to worry about not having fresh water and ice when she wakes up. Knowing her she's not eaten a bite since she got herself up this morning."

Carlotta paused. "Do you know what these are?" she asked, prying the upper bun of one the sandwiches with a knife in her free right hand.

"Oh, Louis said something about roasted portabellas in an artichoke sauce, with a tomato basil soup, fresh-baked biscuits and sweet butter. There's tea too, piping hot." Gertrude replied, standing over the plates as she prepared them. "She got herself up?" the young girl asked in a whisper.

"Mmm. Doesn't sound French, but it does sound delicious, even without _meat_." The Housekeeper smiled, leaning back to lift the silver cover of the soup bowl now with her free hand. "And, oh you're the curious one aren't you? Well, yes, she bathed and dressed herself too. I think she even washed her hair."

"That's amazing! I mean, she's only been, well … human, for a month. She must be quite clever. That's what Olivia and Meredith have been saying at least." The young girl said with an admiring smile, followed by a slight frown.

"Five weeks dear, and yes, they're right, she's very bright. Just like you." Grimaldi paused, looking back to the young maid with a smile. "You know I hate it when you try to make comparisons. I know what you're up to in that little mind of yours."

Gertrude smiled. "I know, but still, she's already walking … and learning how to dress. It takes children _years_ for that. I'm sure it would take me forever to learn how to swim if I were to become a mermaid." she added wistfully as she finished lifting her fallen hair and carefully set it back into a bun, peeking into the mirror of the Princess's vanity as she did so.

"Now stop that! I don't like it when anyone does that, talks themselves down, especially _my_ _little ones_." Carlotta paused as the young maid looked over to her and smiled.

"But you have to admit, it would be heavenly though, to be a _mermaid_. I wonder what it would be _like_."

"Gertrude, our little _mermaid_ is going to need a nice bath; not too warm this time, just enough to ensure sure she's cool, clean, and refreshed after everything she's been through. Even a few minutes' soak will do the poor thing a world of good."

"Yes Mistress." the girl replied, her eyes settling once again upon the younger girl asleep in the bed next to her, then noticing the sprawling bundle of white and gray hair that lay prostrate beneath her bedside at Carlotta's feet.

"Now, I drew a bath for her earlier in the bathhouse, but the water must be cold by now, as cold as it gets around here, that is. Would you be a dear and go back down there to see it's still ready for her; maybe have some hot water ready if she wants it?" Carlotta asked.

"Yes Mistress, of course." Gertrude bent down to stroke the sleeping sheepdog behind the ears and offer a short scratch. "Hello Maximillian boy, how are you today?"

"Heavens though, I can't imagine her wanting a warm bath right now, not after what she went through under the hot sun this morning." the Housekeeper continued, half to herself this time.

The unexpected attention and scratch immediately elicited a wag of a stubby tail and a raised head from the dog, followed immediately by a craning hairy neck. Perhaps the dog hadn't been asleep after all. Who could tell though, with that ridiculous mop of fur always draped down over his eyes? _"How does the poor thing even see?" _the young maid wondered.

"That's right, you're a good dog aren't you?" she whispered, smiling at the dog's response. "Are you watching after the Princess? Of _course_ you are." she whispered.

"_Oh. The bath!" _she thought, snapping out of her reverie. "Yes Mistress, I'll have her bath ready in minutes; and I'll make sure the water is tepid and that there's hot water and iced water nearby too."

"Good girl. Thank you Gertrude. Now run along you and stop fishing for compliments, because you know very well I'll keep giving them!" Carlotta laughed, and was swiftly joined by the young maid who had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggles as she slipped backwards and turned to the doors. With one last look at the sleeping princess and then a smile to Carlotta, she pulled the great doors closed behind her.

Carlotta Grimaldi grinned as her protégée left, then looked down lovingly at the young foundling she had adopted. Napkins still in her left hand, the Housekeeper once again brushed back a disorderly lock of the sleeping girl's hair from her face that had been dislodged by the breeze, smiling sweetly at the princess as she did so.

Once again, she thanked the Lord and the Blessed Virgin for having brought the girl into their lives.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_As I mentioned, this is the first part of a chapter I had previously conceived as "Mothers and Daughters," a deeper and more emotional exploration of Carlotta and Ariel's growing relationship and mutual affection and respect for one another essentially continuing what we saw in chapter 6, albeit with the effects of the younger Doctor Østerby's attentions now omnipresent. _

"_Mothers and Daughters" itself will follow immediately as a separate chapter, having now achieved a fair state of completion. There is a concluding scene to write and then the necessary refinement passes with a fresh mind to ensure proper flow and logical consistency, both of which I hope to complete soon. _

_The respite is soon to come to an end, however, and the tempest shall be rejoined. Mothers and Daughters will now most likely be followed by "Prelude to a Confrontation" and thereafter by "An Anti-Gallican Hitch." These will hardly be the end of the story either._

_Thank you, everyone who has read and reviewed this and my others stories, and more importantly encouraged my efforts. I'm very happy that I can offer something of value to you._

* * *

_**Acknowledgments and Credits:**_

_**Cover Art:**_

_~ Miss Gertrude Elise Larsen: Isaiahstephens deviantart com/art/Madge-Undersee-The-Mayors-Daughter-294235143_

_~ Signora Carlotta Maria Grimaldi: rosentod deviantart com/art/Carmen-33595833_

_**Creative Contributions:**_ _Olivia and Meredith appear in Converse R Life's "Altered Reality" Chapter 12, "Responsibilities Covered." "Altered Reality" and Converse's stories in general remain among my very favorites here in TLM FanFiction.._


	16. Chapter 14 - Sometimes We Fall

**Author's Note: **_This chapter constitutes the second of three parts to what I had originally conceived to be one chapter, "Mothers and Daughters." As it turns out, there was a lot to say and describe. The third installment will follow and complete this set of scenes between Ariel and Carlotta. _

_**Publication Date:**__ Sunday, September 27th__, 2015 (Minor emendations October 16th and 17th, 2015)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 14 – **_**Sometimes … We Fall**_

_**~~~ Saturday, the 16**__**th**__** of November, 1805 AD ~~~**_

_**~ 3:15 p.m. ~**_

_**Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix**_

_The pain above her waist continued to grow as hundreds of tiny serrated teeth tore into her bare back._

_It should have hurt more. _

_Instead it was becoming something else, something that had not yet killed her._

_It was becoming an ache, a hurt dull and unrelenting as the former mermaid found herself drawn down ever faster into the depths. _

_She was falling, falling towards the open chasm of the abyss, and with legs and feet she couldn't swim. _

_She would drown. _

_Falling ... such a new and horrible feeling, always accompanied by such a feeling of utter helplessness, an inevitability the like which she had never experienced before leaving the sea. _

_She knew only one experience comparable to it; when the currents had drawn her down into the beast of the abyss; when they had nearly pulled her into its maw._

_Now that pull was upon her again, dragging her down into the cold, dark waters._

_Waters from whence she would never escape._

* * *

Ariel awakened with a start, a slender gasp escaping her lips not quite a cry of distress or even a scream. A woman looked down upon her with concern, her face neither young nor old, but set off by brown eyes and crowned by matching dark hair arranged in a neat, matronly bun.

"Carlotta?" the former mermaid asked with more than a little hesitation in her voice. Slowly, she looked to her left, the right, up and down until her eyes at last settled again upon the Housekeeper.

"Yes honey," the older woman replied, laying her free hand across the young maiden's and stroking it reassuringly. "You're in your room, dear." she added, seeing the confusion and seeming disorientation in the girl's eyes.

"My ... my room?" Ariel followed, blinking her eyes again and looking once again about herself, this time her gaze finally alighting on her bedclothes. This wasn't her bedchamber in the palace, it wasn't even her grotto. Timidly she pulled aside the covers, slipping them off of her legs to reveal layered light skirts of a pastel blue and white, skirts from beneath which peeked two beautifully formed pink feet, and ten perfect little toes. The girl's eyes widened.

"_I_ … _I'm still human_." she whispered to herself as she raised her eyes to Carlotta with a questioning look, her fine crimson eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Well of course you are honey!" Carlotta soothed, continuing to lightly caress the Princess's hand. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Ariel puzzled at this, thinking back to what she realized surely must have been a dream, and not a good one either; a dream that was swiftly fading now from her memory and awareness. Some things she could remember … the Reef, her sisters, her friend Flounder, and eels, had it been just one eel or more? Had her mother been there? She remembered Eric, and she remembered being scared, a fact attested to by her still-pounding heart, her dry throat and mouth.

And there had been … fish.

No, not fish, not fish, something … else, something that had been attacking her, something that had been tearing into her side and back, something that had been _eating_ her.

The former mermaid gasped and twisted quickly to look down at her back left side, but found to her relief only the waist of her simple yet beautiful day dress, the same day dress Carlotta had called "baby blue" and left for Ariel the previous evening. Ariel had dressed herself in it that very morning. She had been_ so_ _proud_ of herself.

Unlike her other favorite dresses, this one was a single piece buttoned from behind and lacked a corset, giving it a very different feel from the others. Like most of her dresses and gowns, Ariel had _earned _this one by standing still for what seemed like hours while it was being designed and later fitted to her by the Dressmaker, Mistress Othilde, and her two assistants Margaret and Jenny. Well, she had tried to stand still ... tried. She let her fingers once again appreciate the smoothness of the soft fabric as her fears slowly dissolved away.

"_It must have been a part of the dream, when the … the … the … what?"_ Quite frustratingly, Ariel found herself unable to remember any more of the nightmare she was sure she had had.

"Ariel honey, what's wrong? Why are you so afraid dear? Was it our Doctor Østerby?"

Still drowsy, Ariel's eyes went wide at the name as her hands snapped to her throat, the sudden motion knocking away not just the napkins held there, but also Carlotta's left hand that had held them. A small cascade of crimson-stained squares of cloths fell to the bedside floor between the two women causing the sleeping sheephound beneath them to open his eyes and look up at the two.

"Oh my..!" Carlotta cried aloud. Bending over, the Housekeeper reached for the fallen napkins.

Without a sound, Max lifted his head and began to wag his stub of a tail, being aware now that his friend and Master's mate was awake. Immediately he stopped. The dog could smell not only that she wasn't happy, but that she was afraid. For a moment, the sheepdog wondered if he should try to make her feel better, after all, a kiss might help; with her it usually did. Given though that he neither smelled nor heard anything that might be a threat, and content that the Mistress was tending to the girl, the sheephound laid his head back down upon his forepaws and waited dutifully, keeping vigil over his future Mistress.

A look of panic threatened within Ariel's eyes and her mouth dropped slightly as she felt desperately about her slender neck. Remembering what had happened, she was afraid what her explorations would reveal, expecting to find torn flesh and red blood beneath her touch. Fearful tears threatened, glistening in her eyes as the princess fought to control her sudden fear. As much as she sought though, she found nothing untoward. Her skin felt smooth, unbroken, and soft.

"They're gone sweetheart, the leeches. The Captain and that Master Sael of yours took them off a while ago." the Housekeeper offered, looking up and seeing the girl's fearful explorations.

"Took them … off? … They're gone?" Ariel asked, caressing her neck, a pleading look of disbelief in her brilliant blue eyes. "I can't feel anything there at all." The girl paused, thinking, then spoke again quietly. "Is … is there … "

"Is there what dear?"

Ariel lowered her head, as though she were trying to hide from something, a thought … a fear perhaps. "… _blood_." she whispered.

Remembering the leeches, Carlotta gazed at the napkins which had fallen away from the girl's neck as she had sat upright. Grasping the closest of these, she raised it to the young maiden's throat only to find herself staring in disbelief. One by one, Carlotta Grimaldi let the napkins fall to the floor.

"By the Blessed Virgin." she whispered as Ariel's eyes uneasily followed the Housekeeper's back to her own neck.

"Wha … what is it!?" the girl quietly asked, a tremor in her voice.

For the first time since Ariel had met her, Carlotta seemed at a loss for words. The woman was stunned, no, transfixed, by whatever it was that she saw. Whatever it was, Ariel had to see it for herself, despite how awful it must be. She needed _to know_. Her heart began to pound, imagining what injury she must have missed as she had probed at her own throat. But she couldn't have missed anything, she had felt everywhere.

"Dear …" the Housekeeper began.

Looking around her room, her eyes soon returned to her bed and the adjacent nightstand. There beside her favorite fork was the elegant hand mirror Eric had bought for her when they first were able to visit the town again, this after the ordeal that had brought them together a little more than a month ago. With her left hand she reached out to it, her lower lip quivering fearfully as she lifted it over her little dinglehopper, the little fork that was the key to her happiest memories of the first evening she had spent in Eric's home.

"Do … do your … people … _heal _…" Carlotta continued, half stuttering.

After a moment's hesitation, Ariel lifted the mirror to examine herself. As she turned the silvered glass upward to see first her face and then her neck, she found that though there remained a light crust of dried blood in four distinct spots, her flesh itself was unblemished. Not a bite, not a welt, not even the slightest discoloration showed; this even though the napkin in Carlotta's hand was stained an undeniable dark red with what was undoubtedly the former mermaid's blood. The sight of those crimson stains made Ariel's stomach turn subtly and caused her to shudder.

"Do they … I mean how long …"

"There … there's nothing there Carlotta." Ariel whispered, touching her neck again with slender fingers, her delicate nails caressing the soft and unblemished flesh. She could feel them again fully now, she felt the touch of her own fingers against her neck. "I don't understand, there was blood. I was bleeding … I could feel it." She said with a soft sob. "Those, those th … things were eating me."

The girl looked up from the mirror, her gaze casting about her bedchamber; the lost and fearful look that spread slowly across her face betraying that whatever it was that she sought … her eyes were not finding it.

It was to Carlotta almost as though the young woman somehow had become once again a little girl, one lost, small and very vulnerable; one once again on the verge of tears. "E … Eric?" she asked, the words leaving her mouth half-whispered, half-sobbed; then without further thought the princess shifted pulled herself close to Carlotta and closed her eyes, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "Carlotta, where's Eric?!" she sobbed.

"Oh, honey, don't cry." The Housekeeper soothed. "It's alright. You're safe now, and so is Eric. Don't you worry, he just went back down to the ship to talk some sense into those _sailors_ of his."

Ariel's sobs began to abate as the girl sought to control her fear, a fear that had erupted from nowhere but the memories of what had happened to her earlier. The thought of her own blood caused her to feel faint, after all, she had never even _seen_ her own blood before today, but the memory of those things the human healer had put on her made her want to swim away as fast as she could.

But … she_ couldn't_ swim … not any longer.

"There, there." Carlotta said, the softness in her voice hiding how surprised and concerned she was at how quickly the girl's mood had descended so. Normally Ariel was as bright and resilient as a sunflower, and now with the leeches and the good Doctor Østerby gone, having remedied her ills, the girl should have at least been feeling some sense of relief, if not calm. "What is it dear, will you tell me?"

Ariel heard the Housekeeper's words but couldn't explain the feelings she was experiencing. Her mind was awash with the terror of those things upon her, gnawing away inside her; the fear of her own blood; her _guilt_ and surety that she deserved to be alone, that she _didn't deserve love_, _didn't deserve happiness_; and because she couldn't explain those feelings, couldn't reconcile them with how she was feeling, she merely shook her head and slipping to the side of her bed, buried herself into Carlotta Grimaldi's arms.

At this the woman was so shocked that she immediately thought of calling for Eric right then and there. Whatever had possessed Ariel, it was quickly reducing the girl to incoherence. Then she remembered it, _Eric's letter_. Not sure of what it might contain, but being very sure of her boy, Carlotta decided that now was the right time to give it to their little princess. The girl seemed in need of some reassurance, and she had been looking for Eric.

"Ariel dear, can you hear me honey?" she asked against the girl's quiet sobs, but being careful to not yet relax her reassuring embrace about the young woman.

Her question was answered by a slight fall in the intensity of the heaving of the girl's shoulders, and an even slighter nod of the girl's head.

"Eric _left_ something for you, dear. _He didn't forget you_." Carlotta offered, the last few words said in that softest of voices mothers alone have, and reserve for their children to let them know they are the most special and beloved beings on Earth, one Carlotta Grimaldi had seldom before now ever had the need or even opportunity to employ, save with Eric.

"_I … I know he didn't."_ came the girl's whispered reply.

"Then, why are you crying dear?"

There was a pause, as though the girl didn't herself know why she had once again lost her composure.

By now, Ariel didn't _care_ if she was acting the guppy. She only knew that she _hurt_, and her tears were the only possible release for that sort of pain. She _hated_ herself for what she had done. If only Eric had been there it would have been better; she needed him because only he could make the pain stop, only he could make the fear go away, as he always had since they had met.

Carlotta heard the girl still herself against her chest, struggling again as she had several times that awful day to conquer her emotions. After a minute or so more, Ariel's sobs began to diminish, her tears along with them.

"He … _left _something?" a small voice whispered from beneath Carlotta Grimaldi's chin.

The woman nodded, and then after a short moment, replied in a soft and loving voice. "Yes dear, he left you a _letter_."

"A letter?"

Carlotta nodded again, "Yes sweetheart, a letter." giving the girl time to understand the words they were saying.

"W … what, what d ... does it … s … say?" the girl asked, her voice still small, quiet, and uncertain.

"Well, I don't know dear, it's his letter to _you_, not to _me_." The Housekeeper smiled softly as she rocked the young maiden gently in her arms while stroking her hair, the young maiden whose tears and sobs had by now nearly abated. "Would you like to have a look?"

Ariel nodded.

It was a gesture Carlotta couldn't see, but could feel. With her right hand she reached back behind herself to the end table, and patting it across the carven surface, found the thin envelope that Gertrude had left there.

"Here we go." she said, feeling Ariel shift against her, the girl's head turning as she looked back around.

As Ariel hesitantly pulled her head away from Carlotta, she raised her eyes to see the woman's hand, in it suspended a thin envelope embossed with gold that she recognized as Eric's household stationery, his royal **"E"** monogram impressed upon it. With her trembling right hand Ariel reached out, and raising her eyes to meet Carlotta's, took the letter.

For a moment she inspected the envelope, noting where the seal flap crossed its throat to join its bottom.

Paper had been unknown in her home, the stuff of which only human things were made of, most of these being doomed to be eaten and consumed by the substance of the sea and those things that dwelt within it. Thus, the writings of the Merfolk were of necessity made on more resistant and less portable materials, such that few to none of them could ever capture the smooth consistency and crisp feel, or the supple softness, of simple human paper.

Turning the envelope, Ariel found on its front a salutation written in what she had come to recognize as Eric's hand:

_Ariel My Beloved_

Immediately the young woman felt her spirit lifted in a way that she found hard to describe, other than as though the sun had emerged from gray clouds after days of storms. It was as if peeking out from its little box, Pandora's forgotten hope itself … had just found her.

For a moment a slight smile teased at the corners of Ariel's mouth, and she hesitated, as though torn between her need to know what lay within the mystery before her and some fear she knew not to heed. Being clever with her fingers, the girl quickly teased the overleaf upward. It had not been sealed, not with the substance Eric had called "wax" at least.

Inside she found a folded letter, one that had been laid squarely over itself in two crisp seams. There was a ripple in the paper beside her name, notable in how its waviness disturbed the perfect smoothness of the paper. The girl touched it with her fingers, feeling its consistency, and how it differed from the rest of the letter. There was an odd but slight dampness to it. It was such a small thing, but one that somehow stirred her heart within her. Ariel wondered why it had drawn her attention so. With slender fingernails, she opened the letter, biting her lower lip all the while in anticipation as she spread the pages outward and turned them so they sat upright in both hands.

Carlotta could see the girl begin to read silently, but then stop with a confused frown.

"What's wrong dear?" the Housekeeper asked, a note of concern edging into her voice.

"It's in cur … cursive." The former mermaid replied as sounded out the word she had heard Eric use for his handwriting. The Merfolk too had a fluid and flowing style, but it was not cursive English, and Ariel had difficulty with that mode of human writing, having seen so few examples of it before the past five weeks. "Could you … _read it to me_?" the girl asked hopefully, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"Well, of course honey!" Carlotta replied. "And we'll have to make sure your tutors know to help you with that. We can't be having you and Eric not able to write one another now, can we?" she added teasingly.

Ariel's only reply was a gentle smile and shake of her head as she looked back at the woman, lowering her eyes once again to the letter, as though through Carlotta's voice, the words might magically spring forth from the page so that the former little mermaid could understand them.

Careful not to take the letter from the girl, Carlotta merely placed her hand gently on its right edge from which Ariel withdrew her own, turning it upward slightly so that she could see her boy's handwriting. It was a fine and kingly hand, its letters well-formed betraying years of practice, that is, raps on the knuckles from half a dozen of the finest tutors that Grimsby had been able to entice away from Denmark, England, and America.

Ariel redoubled the expectant (that is _rather needy)_ look in her eyes, willing the Housekeeper to begin, but Carlotta wanted to be sure she captured her boy's words and meaning properly. Thus she first read the whole thing through to herself, then smiled, looking at the anxious girl who now sat nestled in her arms, trying to be patient … and mostly failing.

Carlotta was both surprised and _impressed_. Eric had written to Ariel in a voice very different than the one she had heard her boy use before, one more formal and romantic than his normal speech. It was as if he had wished to convey a sense of certainty to his bride-to-be, a sense of inevitability reflected in the power of those words he had chosen, and in the insistent mode in which he had used them.

Perhaps all of those tutors had been worth the great sums spent upon them after all.

The Housekeeper smiled. It was then that Carlotta Grimaldi began to read, unconsciously letting her voice shift ever so slightly to capture what she thought to be Eric's intended rhythm of speech …

* * *

_Ariel my beloved,_

_How I wish I could hold you safely in my arms always, every moment of every day, but seeing you at peace and so beautiful in your sleep I could not possibly have brought myself to awaken you._

_Rest, and when you wake come to me. I shall await you on the quay, and while I shall be beside my men, my thoughts shall remain ever with you. With every beat of my heart I shall think of you until you are at last again at my side, and when you do come I shall hold you close once again that I might feel every beat of yours._

_Do not worry at the fears of my men – they are my friends. Their concern is for me, but, once they see your true beauty as I do my love, once they see that your love for me is as true as mine is for you, then their fears shall be set aside; and you shall be theirs fast in friendship and love even as I have been._

_Do not fear my darling, we shall weather this storm together, passing through it like a strong ship over the sea, secure in the embrace of our love._

_Come soon my love._

_Yours Eternally,_

_Eric_

Already having seen his salutation on the envelope's fore, one might have thought it would have been glossed over, but to Ariel, she imagined Eric's voice, him there with her saying those words. She had never had such a letter written to her, not one with words of love embedded so deeply within, and these were Eric's words. _"… _my _beloved."_ she thought, smiling, not simply of how he addressed her, but of how her heart responded to him in kind, its warmth rising in a way she would have never thought possible even two months ago. _"My _beloved_ …,_" she thought in reply.

She imagined the warmth of Eric's strong arms, his tender embrace about her, and how every time he had caught her up in it she had felt so safe, even when certain death had had seemed to loom above them. She imagined him then wistfully, looking down at her as she slept, even as she sometimes looked at him when he had drifted off into dreams while reading to her in the library. She blushed at the word _beautiful_, that word he had used of her so often it sometimes made her self-conscious, being unable to bring herself to really believe it, or at least to believe that she deserved such words. There were so many other girls prettier than she.

As she lay there listening, Ariel's attentions drifted along with her distant love's words, their focus now the sound of her own heart beating deep within her breast. She imagined Eric next to her, his heart beating strong within his chest pressed close against her own as she relaxed within his embrace. She imagined that she felt it, his heart, that she was caught up again in that tender lopsided smile of his as she so often was, dimples gracing his cheeks, his eyes bright as they looked down into hers; and she found to her surprise that her own heart, its fearful pounding now subsided into a soft, gentle rhythm, was no longer here in the room with her, but instead with Eric, wherever he might be. Oh, how she wanted to be there in body too.

The images and countenances of Eric's friends danced in Ariel's mind; _Hans_ and the Captain; that giant Eric called _Henrik_ who scared her so deeply; _Grimsby _with his pipe, dry humor, his funny stories_;_ and _Carlotta, especially Carlotta,_ who was right now holding her as though her own mother might have, was reading to her, even though it was Eric's voice that Ariel heard and not her friend's. Ariel even thought of Louis who tried so hard to find human foods that he thought she would enjoy, and forgave her so easily about not partaking in fish or even meat as it seems most humans did.

If all the others were Eric's _friends_, and so _kind_ to her, why shouldn't _Henrik_ be? After all, he was Eric's friend too, he had _said_ so; and had given Eric _apple slices _when her love was little and had dearly needed a friend. Somehow through her fear of the man, she was grateful. It made her smile imagining Eric, just a little boy, hiding from his mean old father and munching on slices of that delicious, juicy fruit. After all, that is what _she_ would have done for him too, given him apple slices if she could have, apple slices or something … maybe a kiss … maybe a lot of kisses, she smiled.

Beneath his anger and accusations, Eric's friend _had_ to be such a sweet man, even though he still scared her. But she knew something she thought that maybe Henrik didn't … killer whales could be sweet too, especially if you insisted on loving them and didn't get on their other side, their hungry side. She thought of one little orca in particular, then sighed. She couldn't _adopt _Henrik Knudsen, he was already a full grown man, much older and more mature than she was. He wasn't a little baby, and she was already on his _other_ side. The former mermaid puffed at her bangs in frustration. If only there were some way to reach him, some way to prove her innocence, _she just_ _knew _he would accept her … and then everything would be fine.

As the letter drew to a close, Ariel knew where she needed to be. Once again, she felt hot tears welling up from her eyes, but there was no fear, no terror … not anymore, not now at least. Such an alien feeling for a mermaid tears were, though fear and sadness were emotions with which she was well acquainted. No, these new tears were those of happiness, hope, and love; tears shed with the new certainty that she had never been forgotten, and would never be forgotten.

Ariel imagined a storm at sea and a ship with her at its fore, held fast in Eric's strong arms as together the two faced the tempest of the human world. She would be fearless against it in his embrace, the galleon of their love cutting through all trials and tribulations, relentlessly, unswervingly, the fastness of its course never in doubt.

* * *

Lying there snug against Carlotta Ariel was quiet for a moment, though the Housekeeper could practically _hear_ the girl thinking. When Ariel gave herself over to contemplation she evinced a manner that was both introspective and intense. The girl's slender fingers played and twined about one another, her shoulders drifted slightly forward, her breathing grew soft. Grimaldi suspected that if she could have seen her little mermaid's face then, the girl would be biting her lower lip and her lovely eyebrows would once again be knit together in concentration.

"I need to be there with him, Carlotta." Ariel said, stirring only slightly in Carlotta's embrace. "This is all my fault."

"Honey, once you've had something to drink and a bite to eat, once you've taken a quick bath to be sure you're cool and clean, I won't stand in your way. In fact I'll _help_ you make your way back out to the quay." The Housekeeper paused, "But I have to disagree; _none_ of this is _your_ _fault, _dear. You have as much a right to explore and enjoy this world as any of us do, and that is _all_ you were doing. Sweetheart, this is _your home_, your home every bit as much as much as it is mine, or Aubrey's, or even _Eric's_."

For the first time in minutes Ariel raised her eyes from the leaves in her and Carlotta's hands, her eyes wide, brimming with the same tears as a little while ago, "But … I'm not even …"

"Human!? Oh _yes_ _you are_!" Carlotta Grimaldi cut her off. "Even if you weren't born that way, your heart was, and you're as human as Eric or I. Those sailors were just being _pigheaded_."

"Pig … headed?" Ariel asked wiping at her right eye with the back of her hand before a tear could fall. Her eyes looked to Carlotta's for an explanation.

"Well, _just plain stubborn_ dear, but in a way that only _men _can be. Stupid man-stubborn, all willfulness and no brains behind it."

"_Oh."_ Ariel smiled, but for a moment seemed once again lost in her thoughts. _"I don't think he's stupid."_ She opined quietly, her voice diminishing, though not quite to a whisper.

Carlotta Grimaldi was, once again, caught at a loss for words. "Oh! But h … honey…"

"Carlotta, he _took care_ of Eric when Eric needed someone, just like you or I would have, and like Eric, you and G … _Aubrey_ have _me_." she said in a soft, thoughtful voice, playing with her fingers as she looked up to Carlotta again, a bright smile now gracing her face.

"I'm so grateful to all of you for how good you've been to me. I think Henrik _has_ to be a good man, he's Eric's _friend_ after all and I haven't met a friend of Eric's that I haven't liked. I think he's just … upset … or scared." She paused and frowned, her eyebrows drawn together as they had repeatedly since she had awakened.

"I know he doesn't like _witches_, I understand that; but he doesn't seem to like _mermaids_ either. What I can't understand is _why_. My people have _never_ tried to hurt humans, we've tried to _avoid_ them; though sometimes we save them from drowning." She added, a small smile dawning upon her lips. In fact, she knew of only _one little mermaid_ who had actually done the latter, not something that exactly remained a secret any longer either.

"What do I have to do again before I can go back outside?" After so many weeks as a member of Eric's household Ariel had learned that as sweet and loving as Carlotta could be, she was also unyielding when she felt the girl's safety or well-being were in doubt. She also had discovered much to her surprise that unlike Attina or her father, Carlotta couldn't be avoided or easily sneaked around. As it had turned out, not being able to simply swim out her tower window made adventures in the human world much more difficult to begin. No, there was no getting around it, if Ariel wanted to see Eric, she would do so the soonest by doing exactly what the Housekeeper required of her. And she thought her _father_ had been strict.

Carlotta smiled at the girl, turning slightly now to the end table behind them. "You're going to lie back in your bed, drink as much water as you can, and have something good to eat. Knowing you, you haven't eaten all day, and even if you have its well past luncheon. There's a bath drawn and waiting for you in the bathhouse too to help you feel better."

The girl was, in fact, quite hungry, though had she tried to ignore the feeling, the murmurs and aches in her tummy, wanting more than anything else just to be with Eric again. Still, the thought of having something to eat lingered with her, though she felt guilty that Eric wouldn't be eating with her as he usually did.

Ariel smiled and softly shrugged as the woman relaxed her embrace, allowing the girl to slip back over to her bed. "I didn't _mean_ to miss breakfast, I just saw that boat and all the men around it when I came back from my bath." she said wistfully. "It was so pretty and I really wanted to see what all the men were … well … doing." the former mermaid offered, playing now with her hair, the picture of innocence, albeit with more than a hint of lingering excitement in her voice. "There were _all sorts_ of interesting things, horses, and carriages, dorfburbles, and … and _huge fishhooks_ and _nets_." she finished, the last two items shaded with a much less happy tone; then her mood shifted and she smiled again.

"_I love horses." _she added, looking out her balcony wistfully. "They're so pretty and sweet."

Max stood up and whined pitifully at this, peeking up between the two and causing the girl to jump slightly in surprise at her unexpected interlocutor.

"_Max!"_ the girl squealed. "I didn't know you were here. Oh Max, I'm so happy to see you, and you know I love you _too_!" she said leaning over to the dog and hugging his shaggy head. For just a moment, Ariel caught a glimpse of mischievous blue eyes beneath monstrous bangs, noticing how the dog's dripping tongue lolled and threatened. By then it was too late, the dog's weapon of choice smacked into the left side of Ariel's face eliciting a peal of giggling laughter from the girl.

Satisfied with his handiwork at making his young mistress happy and with his tail a-wag, the sheepdog slipped back down to the floor, returning to his protective position.

Recovering from the canine lingual onslaught, Ariel quickly leaned down to rub her assailant's furry neck while offering a delightful scratch behind the ears that no dog could resist, certainly not the friendly Max; and if there was anything Max loved about Ariel, aside from practically everything that is, it was her ten magical fingernails.

"Dorfburbles?" Carlotta inquired, continuing the conversation that had been so inconveniently interrupted.

"Oh!" Ariel giggled, looking up "I don't know their _human_ name." she paused, her imagination afire in her eyes. "They're _round_, and they _roll_, and have an open end on one side like a …" she thought quickly as her arms and hands reached around some imaginary object before her, then then swiftly continued "… like a _dining plate_." proudly producing the last two words.

"A barrel?"

"Barrel?" Ariel parroted, staring wide-eyed back at her friend.

"Maybe. People put _all sorts_ of things in them to carry them from place to place, wine, water, molasses, grains, tobacco. All sorts of things. _They're_ round, made of wood, can be rolled, and they can be sealed on one or both ends. Did the … dorfburbles … you saw have bands of metal around them?"

Ariel didn't even need to think back, but instead instantly remembered the presence of dark bands around the objects and nodded, being quite proud of herself that she had noticed the detail.

"Oh, yes then, they were probably _barrels_ dear. Remind me to ask you again to point them out when we go back outside."

"Barrels. _Ohhh_." The girl replied, now rapt in attention as she often became when human objects and ideas were explained to her and excited at the prospect of going back outside to be with Eric again.

"Now, here." the Housekeeper turned and taking a silver pitcher from the tray, poured a clear liquid from it into the ornate glass beside it. "You take a nice long drink, as much as you want."

Ariel could hear the soft clinking of something striking the goblet's sides and noticed how quickly the glass went from being quite clear to cloudy. By now, she knew this meant that whatever was inside the glass was cold. Little beads of water began to form on its sides. As Ariel watched the water pour, she became aware again of how thirsty she was; how dry her mouth and throat were; not nearly as dry as they had been that morning, but her body clearly needed water. It was so strange for one's body to need water of all things.

With a slight grateful smile, she took the glass and looked at Carlotta. "Aren't you going to have some too … please?" she asked sweetly, looking at her friend with big, blue, doe-like eyes that beseeched the older woman like nothing one else could.

Now it was the Housekeeper's turn to laugh. "Oh Heavens above! With a pout like that, how could I possibly resist? Just don't you try that on me when you're in trouble, young lady!" She and her young charge broke out into a fit of laughter and giggles as Grimaldi turned and poured herself a glass of iced water.

The Housekeeper turned back to Ariel with her own now-dewy glass and a small tray of dark breaded finger sandwiches which she set on the edge of the Princess's bed. In her right hand she held her own glass, its sides now dripping with moisture. Then she looked up at Ariel.

"To daughters." Carlotta offered, her voice now become soft and sentimental in its tone, laden with lost memories and dreams as her eyes met Ariel's.

Having not expected this, Ariel paused for a moment, her glistening eyes reflecting the sudden attentions of her mind. Realizing to whom the woman was referring, Ariel felt herself blushing furiously and quickly ducked her head, looking up only to smile at the matronly Housekeeper who had all but adopted her as her very own.

She had witnessed several of these "toasts" before, and had even offered a well-received one herself the very last night at dinner with Eric, but she still couldn't understand the relationship between such words of honor and a slice of warm bread. Humans were still so … puzzling.

Through her embarrassment the girl recognized what her friend was offering though and thought quickly, all the while wondering if she might one day have a daughter or even daughters of her very own. Ariel found the thought, well, intimidating … but somehow it stirred a happy feeling within her breast.

"To daughters." she replied, her cheeks still flushed with her earlier surprise and embarrassment.

Closing her eyes, Ariel tipped her glass back carefully as she had weeks ago learned how to do, allowing its contents to flow into her. Holding her glass in both hands, she tried to sip, but felt instead compelled to drink more deeply, her body demanding the life-giving moisture more than she had expected. Both she and Carlotta took long drinks from their glasses, more than just sips. As only the first drink after the long denial of liquid might sometimes reveal, they were both quite thirsty.

Once again, Ariel felt the pleasure of cold wetness punctuated by little flecks of frozen water grace at first her tongue and mouth, then her dry throat. It had a taste, this water, a delicious fresh taste, she realized, almost sweet it seemed, so pure and clean it was. Immediately, she felt a coolness suffuse her body and sighed in relief.

As Carlotta looked on, she thought Ariel's to be a pretty motion, elegant in its execution yet conveying a certain desperation and vulnerability, as though the girl had never before been allowed to drink water, or else had long gone without. Of course, the latter was nearly true.

Despite her understandable missteps and tumbles, the girl was actually very elegant, sublimely graceful in how she moved sometimes, how she presented herself, in her gestures and expressions. Even in the throes of great excitement and enthusiasm, or as it now proved, anxiety and disappointment, there was an innocent grace about her.

Aubrey had been so right about that, right from the very moment she had arrived. It had been her grace and elegance that had made him instantly estimate her to be of the nobility, perhaps even royalty. After all, the young lady was quite obviously the product of a household which prized a level of comportment and etiquette encountered only in the upper strata of human society.

"_How could that be?"_ Grimaldi wondered as had Beauclerk, _"How could the customs and manners of the court of the King of the Seas be even remotely similar to those of the upper crust of European society?"_ It was quite a mystery.

Ariel emptied her glass of its contents, wishing immediately that there were more, and, knowing that there was, refused to obey her body's instinct to panic. Instead she opened her eyes to find the Headmistress looking back at her with a loving smile and sparkling eyes.

"Would you like more honey?" Carlotta asked.

Ariel simply smiled and nodded. "Yes please."

The Housekeeper refilled the young Princess's glass, savoring the relaxing moment she found herself enjoying with this daughter of the sea who, for all her nearly seventeen years of age, could easily have been one of her very own little girls.

"Thank you." The girl said with a grateful smile, which was met with equally grateful smile from Carlotta.

"You're welcome dear."

Now it was Ariel's turn to offer a toast, and she already knew what it must be, to honor what she had lost, to honor her eldest sister, and to honor that which she had never had known, but felt she had somehow found in Carlotta Grimaldi.

"To mothers." she offered quietly, almost in a whisper.

Carlotta smiled, finding it now her own turn to blush at her precocious young charge's sweet toast and the thoughtfulness it conveyed.

"To mothers." she returned, thinking now of her own dear mother, and of her twin girls, to whom she had never been able to become a true mother.

* * *

The Housekeeper watched as Ariel drank once again, closing her eyes fully as she did so. Sometimes it was so interesting to simply watch the girl; one could almost perceive her thoughts and feelings through the intensity and sincerity of her expressions, particularly those that shone in her eyes.

Ariel was the sort of girl who would never be _good_ at _lying_. Guile and prevarication simply didn't seem to part of her spiritual constitution, though a hint of mischievousness sometimes seemed to be, especially when she wanted to be with Eric and couldn't because of her bedtime, or else because of Eric's matters of governance to which the girl was not privy.

"How was that? Would you like some more dear?" Grimaldi asked and wasn't surprised when the girl nodded and offered the woman her glass again, an expression rather like guilt clouding her sheepish smile.

"Ohhh…, Carlotta, I never thought water could taste so _wonderful_!" Ariel sighed. "And … _yes please_." She followed with a soft breath, offering her glass and lowering her head as she did so, not wishing to seem demanding.

Of course the whole point here was to ensure Ariel was safe, healthy and refreshed, so the girl's seeming embarrassment at wanting more water struck the Housekeeper as odd. "Honey, don't be _ashamed_. We _all_ want to you feel better and happy again. This water and this luncheon are here especially for _you_ and believe me, you need them both. Here, have another drink. This one has a little more ice in it."

Ariel looked up at Carlotta and smiled, taking the glass. This time the girl sipped, luxuriating in its chilled wetness. As she opened her eyes, she looked down at the little sandwiches and the platter of dishes that sat before her. "What is it?" she asked, looking back up to Carlotta.

Carlotta lifted the cover from the soup, looking in to see a rich, thick red with what appeared to be freshly sprinkled minced basil. Bringing out the biscuits and taking up a butter knife, she began to spread fresh honeyed butter upon them.

"Oh, you're going to love this. It's Louis' tomato bisque. It's still warm, thank goodness. Louis must have sent it up here fresh off of the stove. There's usually a strong hint of basil and other herbs in it too."

Ariel tried to remember the sounds of the words Carlotta had used. There were so many words in _Inw…_ , in English, and so many things she had no idea of what they were.

Without even looking, Carlotta could tell by Ariel's pause and body language that the girl was engaged in an exercise that she undertook ever more frequently; that is, thinking … thinking carefully about the words and things she had learned and trying to reason out or recognize words and names unfamiliar to her.

From their daily conversations, Carlotta knew the poor thing hated being as helpless as she had become, and more upsettingly tended to feel guilty about imposing upon others for her lack of knowledge. So she gave the girl a moment, knowing that her stubborn insistence on trying to figure things out herself would soon relent to her even more intense curiosity and eagerness, her essential desire to know more. The Housekeeper grinned as she focused her attentions on the soup in the white china bowl she was setting out for the girl.

Frustrated, Ariel puffed at her bangs and pursed her lips, then looked to Carlotta with a pleading look.

"Tomatoes are a kind of fruit, honey, though people treat them as a vegetable. They're red, tangy, and very juicy." The Housekeeper said, lifting a soupspoon brimming with a think red liquid nearly the color of the girl's hair. For a moment Ariel froze, the color reminding her of the other crimson that had just a few minutes ago had her in tears.

Carlotta watched the girls' eyes, seeing the moment of fear erupt in them as she tried to reconcile what had happened to her with the food now being offered. "Honey, trust me, it's alright. It's not what I think you're worried about. You'll _love_ it."

Ariel looked at it again, then up at Carlotta … and sighed in resignation. Like an obedient little girl, the former mermaid opened her mouth and closed her eyes after which the older woman set the spoon directly upon the girl's tongue, letting her young charge close her mouth about it to taste its contents.

_And oh! … How that young girl wasn't disappointed!_

The tanginess which Carlotta had spoken of presented itself immediately, suffused within a wonderfully rich and smooth consistency that only accentuated and prolonged the taste. There were so many flavors in this one thing, this one little spoonful; it was overwhelming to the girl. Teasing the thick mixture about her tongue, Ariel savored every moment that it lingered before she finally allowed herself to swallow. After a while, she opened her eyes and just smiled at Carlotta, her eyes gleaming with such a rapturous look upon her face that the girl might well have just returned from visiting with Saint Peter and the other apostles.

"Told you so." the Housekeeper added softly, then laughing tweaked the girl's right cheek with her right forefinger and thumb. Afterward she set the soup bowl onto the girl's tray and laid out a quartet of small sandwiches, following with the buttered biscuits to accompany them.

"These … are made with an, err … a vegetable … called the portabella. It's a mushroom." she pointed to the dark things. "They're little sandwiches, and if you like, you can try them with this sauce. Apparently, it's made from another vegetable called the artichoke."

If Ariel had underestimated anything in the human world as to its sheer wonderfulness, it must have been human food. Though she still could never imagine herself eating meat, let alone fish, everything else she had experienced had so far been nothing less than divine. The tastes and smells, the sheer richness of variety and flavor of human foods simply had no equal in the fare she had enjoyed in her former home. There wasn't really even a comparison, this gulf between the two was that immense. Every meal and tea for the former mermaid in her new life was nothing less than a celebration of gustatory fireworks.

"Now, be careful not to spill your soup. I'll be right back. I'm going to find you something fresh and pretty to wear." Turning, Grimaldi addressed the once-again prostrate sheephound. "Max, now you let me know if she tries to slip away."

Given that he was being addressed by name, the sheepdog once again disturbed his silent vigil at his Master's mate's bed to raise his head in some sort of doggish acknowledgement. Obviously, there was no escaping either him or his nose. He could smell the girl's unmistakably agreeable scent from a mile away, maybe more, and had proven it on many occasions. No. She would be safe with him now that that evil _thing _was gone; and she was going nowhere _he_ didn't approve of. He laid his head back on the floor.

Ariel for her part grinned, knowing that she had given the Housekeeper good reason to be so protective, having "slipped out" of her room to explore a few times when she should have been safely asleep in bed. Then she paused, her thoughts shifting to what had happened to her today, her mood suddenly falling a little. "I only got a _little_ lost."she replied. _"After all, none of those other adventures ended as badly as this morning." _the girl thought to herself, frowning slightly.

Standing as Ariel looked up from her serving tray, Carlotta disappeared into the large closet that adjoined the northern side of Ariel's bedchamber. "Oh, and wash your hands before you eat, dear. There's a bowl of warm water and soap with a small towel on the tray."

_Washing her hands._ Yet another human custom so hard to grasp for a former mermaid, but seemingly very important. Ariel dutifully immersed her hands and washed them thoroughly with the soap as she had been taught, smiling at yet another human thing she had learned then musing at how obedient she had become with Carlotta. Attina would have been _so _jealous, not to mention her _father_. Rinsing her hands, Ariel dried them with the towel and returned her attentions to the tray before her.

Picking up the spoon, she seated it in her fingers as she had learned from Carlotta shortly after she had first arrived, concentrating to make sure she had the position and angle between her fingers right. Then she carefully balanced both the spoon and its contents, bringing it to her mouth, taking care not to spill a drop. While it was hardly an easy exercise to her, being seated as she was on the edge of her bed, once she started she completed it almost perfectly. A flicker of pride swelled within her as once again, she savored the amazing taste of the dark red mixture.

Human potions were just so … amazing.

From the nearby wardrobe she heard her older friend talking to herself. The Housekeeper emerged with a smile. "Now I had planned for you to wear _this one_ this evening before dinner. You haven't worn it yet and it's not too formal, though it does have a corset. Look, buttercream … and very pretty, I might add. Don't you think?" she smiled as she turned to the former mermaid, holding forth a beautiful ankle length day dress the color of golden cream.

Ariel looked up as she had been lifting a sandwich between her fingers to her lips. A bright smile returned to the girl's face instantly upon seeing the creation displayed before her in Carlotta Grimaldi's hands. She nodded enthusiastically. "It's so pretty!"

Having paid for every one of her_ dresses_ and gowns with a myriad of pin-sticks and hours spent trying to stand as still as possible for Mistress Othilde, Ariel was delighted every time she got to finally wear one of her favorites. Of course, all of them were all her favorites.

Finally taking the first of several small bites, Ariel found the little sandwiches to be almost as delicious as the soup, and quite amazing with the "sauce" of which Carlotta has spoken. Then there were the buttered biscuits, which even though they were only slightly warm, seemed to melt in her mouth like sweet, frothy clouds.

Realizing that Ariel still had to finish eating and bathe, and that more importantly she had unintentionally been delaying the girl, Carlotta hung the pieces of the dress and its skirts on an nearby hangar, then laid out a pair of matching low-heeled shoes, cream-colored stockings and underthings for the girl when she finally finished her overly late luncheon.

Ariel ate a bit more quickly than usual, shifting her attention back and forth between the sandwiches and soup. _"She must be hungry. Good." _the Housekeeper observed as she went about quietly tidying up the girl's room from the aftermath of the Doctor's visit.

"Carlotta?" a small voice whispered.

The Housekeeper turned around to see the former mermaid looking up at her with those impossibly big blue eyes of hers, a look of unmistakable guilt written in them and upon her face. "Yes dear?"

"Would you please have some?" The girl said, lowering her eyes. "I feel bad eating when you and Eric can't."

"Oh honey!" the Housekeeper began. "But Eric and I both had breakfast, and you didn't. You must be positively famished!"

"Just one?" Ariel said, offering one of her four little sandwiches to Carlotta with her right hand.

"Oh, honey. I _couldn't_."

"_Please_?" the girl begged, smiling softly. "It would make me feel better if you did."

Carlotta Grimaldi sighed. Her little redhead had been thoughtful to ask, and it was precisely one of the reasons why she felt the girl was so right for Eric. In that way, the two were so much the same, caring, considerate, and kind; and here was Ariel's generosity and selflessness shining through her own hunger. This time it was Carlotta's turn to do what was likely to get the girl back out to the quay as quickly as possible; such that she was properly refreshed, fed and attired that is.

"Well, _alright_, but just _one_."

Stepping around Ariel's bed to the far nightstand, Carlotta returned with the serving platter that sat there, its pitcher of iced water now melted and cool to the touch. Bringing it to Ariel's near nightstand she set it on the far end and then washed and rinsed her hands with its accompanying soap and towels at hand. She then sat down on the footstool as Ariel took a bite of one of her remaining biscuits, closing her eyes as she did so.

Looking up, Ariel smiled and set the remains of her biscuit down, then picked up the last sandwich and offered it to Carlotta.

The woman took a bite, then turned to her young charge and smiled. "Mmm. It's just as delicious as I imagined! I'll have to tell Louis!" she grinned after she finished trying her first bite.

"Would you thank him for _me_ too?" Ariel asked.

"Why yes, of course sweetheart, but you can do so yourself later if you wish. How was the soup?"

Ariel smiled in reply. "It was _soo_ good, I could have eaten the whole …. umm …" the girl suddenly looked puzzled, looking down at the white object beneath her, having run into a lack of words once again.

"Bowl?"

Ariel nodded excitedly. "Yes, that's it … _bowl_! But … I saved some for you!"

At this the Housekeeper smiled and peeked over the rim of the bowl. About a quarter of its contents remained. "Oh honey, you must still be hungry. You need to eat to stay healthy, and you eat like a bird as it is."

"Like a bird?" the girl enquired. Carlotta had said that before of her as had Eric. The phrase conjured all sorts of colorful visions in the girl's mind's eye, but she knew that by it, Carlotta meant that they worried she didn't eat enough. While she didn't have a feeling of fullness, Ariel did feel happy with what she had eaten.

"I'm … fine." she said, looking up at her friend. "I've had enough. Really, I have. It was _so good_, and I want _you_ to have some."

Now it was Carlotta who obediently took up a clean soup spoon and dipping it in the soup, lifted it to her lips. She too closed her eyes. "Oh, _Louis_." she smiled, musing that for all the man's odd behaviors, the fare provided by his kitchen was without equal.

When the Housekeeper opened her eyes, she was greeted by two enormous orbs of cobalt blue staring expectantly back at her, a soft, eager smile gracing the girl's face.

"Delicious, simply … delicious." Carlotta said, her words obviously directed to the young girl sitting before her. "Thank you dear. That was very thoughtful of you. You're so sweet."

The girl returned her smile, being obviously pleased. Together they finished the soup, sandwiches and biscuits. Carlotta removed the serving tray and tidied up the few crumbs that had fallen. There was tea, still hot, though they took this quickly given the day's wearing and the fact Ariel eagerly wished to return to Eric's side.

"Ready for that bath now?

"Do I really have to bathe again? I feel so much better now, and not so warm anymore." Ariel said sheepishly, her lower lip caught slightly between her teeth.

"Princess, you've been out in the hot sun and sultry air, glowing all the while I'm quite sure. Just a quick soak and some _fresh air _will do you a world of good."

"Fresh air?"

"Yes dear, on the way to the bathhouse and back. There's a breeze again. It's much nicer out than this morning I think."

The girl nodded, her eyes casting about the room, finally settling on its open twin balcony doors. "Won't that take a while?" she asked, looking at the Housekeeper, worry in her eyes.

"Maybe a little, but you'll be able to see Eric from there. We'll get you dressed and presentable again in the bathhouse and we can take you straight out to the quay thereafter. How does that sound?" Carlotta asked. "Now, why don't you put your stockings and shoes back on and I'll bring your new things out with us?"

Ariel brightened immediately, then with a huge smile growing on her face slipped her feet out from under herself and to the floor, pushing herself up off her bed with her hands. The instant she slipped from the side of the bed, her pretty legs buckled beneath her and she plummeted to the floor, her sudden shriek shattering the air behind the Housekeeper, only to be instantly followed by a dull rolling thud.

Startled, Carlotta spun about. There on the floor was their little mermaid, lying half on her side, half on her face, her right arm outstretched beneath her head where she had fallen. Beside her knelt Max, who was now nuzzling worriedly at the nearly prostrate young princess.

"Oh my!" she cried. "Child, are you alright?! What _happened_?!"

A soft low moan issued from the girl, who was just now opening her eyes, only to see Carlotta kneel down beside her.

"What happened dear, are you _hurt_?!" she asked, nearly repeating herself as she took the girl gently by the forearms to helping her to sit up.

"I … I don't know." Ariel whimpered. "My legs. I started to stand and I couldn't. I just … I just …"

"Fell?" Carlotta offered.

Ariel looked at the Housekeeper and nodded quietly, her eyes now sad and frightened once again.

"Well, let's get you onto your feet again. We all have our little spills and tumbles sweetheart." With this, Grimaldi offered the girl a reassuring lift upward, her hands pulling gently at the former mermaid's upper arms.

Slowly, Ariel managed to force herself up, but instantly felt her legs weaken and refuse to straighten, her muscles defying her desire to once again become firm and hold her upright as they had done since she had first stood on her own in this room more than a month ago. In fact, she couldn't remember how she had ever _done so_ before. She didn't know _how_.

A deep terror began to well up from within her as she felt herself struggling again to not only maintain herself upright, but to maintain her composure. "Carlotta…" she half whispered, half sobbed, leaning heavily again upon the older woman. "I … I don't think I can stand."


	17. Chapter 15 - Mothers and Daughters

**Author's Note: **_This chapter constitutes the third and last part of what I had originally conceived to be one chapter, "Mothers and Daughters." It also completes the partial chapter I had posted in celebration of Ariel's 26th birthday a week and a half ago. (Thank you again for reminding me Blue!) _

_Once again, I would like__ to offer my thanks to everyone who has offered such kind and helpful reviews to Sael, Atalantë, and Missing Moments._

_There is still quite a bit left to "Sael" before its tale is fully told through its conclusion and epilogues. _

_More than any other before this chapter delves into what is going on in Ariel's lovely but troubled mind and heart – and why._

_**Publication Date: **__Saturday, November 28th, 2015_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 15 –**_**Mothers and Daughters**_

_**~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~**_

_**~ 4:00 p.m. ~**_

_**Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix**_

Maximilian whined as he stepped backward, his attention fully devoted to his Master's mate. In addition to her unmistakable fear, he could smell _it_, that _fetor_, just a hint of it now, the bad one that made him want to go and hide away again. But no, not again, he wouldn't hide now, not while the girl he loved so much, the one who was so right for them all was afraid and hurt. He had to watch over her.

"Good boy Max, that's right, just give us some room while we get her back into bed, she'll be just fine, don't _you_ worry." the Headmistress praised the sheepdog somewhat hopefully, her eyes hardly leaving the young woman who now leaned heavily against her.

"Now honey! Why are you _saying_ that? What's wrong?!" Carlotta felt the girl shift even more of her slight weight onto her, then felt the young woman's legs buckle again as she tried once again to hold herself upright. Carlotta felt a panicked sob flutter through the girl's chest and back.

The girl fought against her tears and having seemingly no other option, wrapped her arms around the Housekeeper, clinging to her desperately. "I … I can't … keep my legs straight." she cried softly.

"Oh sweetheart, of _course_ you can." Carlotta replied soothingly, wondering what could possibly have befallen the poor thing now. The child hadn't been sick, just _heartsi_ ….

"Carlotta…

"Yes child?" the woman replied, her mind now caught up in a conversation she had shared with Eric little more than a week ago, a conversation about Ariel … as most of their infrequent conversations were these days.

"I … I can't remember … _how_ … " Ariel paused, looking down at her skirts, and her naked feet peeking out from beneath their hem, pointing awkwardly at each other for her inability to control them, "… how to make my legs work." The girl could still feel the fabric of the rug, cool beneath her feet and toes, she could feel her legs almost dangling beneath her hips; but the muscles of her legs that had formerly been so responsive and firm now felt like strands of kelp, flaccid, limp; and her knees threatened to twist again the moment she placed the slightest weight upon them.

"Dear, let's just sit you down for a moment, so that you're comfortable, would that be alright?" Grimaldi asked, looking down at her young charge.

Ariel's blue eyes now rose to meet Carlotta's, tears welling from within them, threatening to spill over and run down cheeks already too stained with tears from the earlier events of the day. She nodded softly and would have wiped away her tears had either of her hands been free; fear and uncertainty were clear in her expression, made even more obvious by the girl's quivering chin and mouth, the look of lost hope that threatened in her eyes.

As gently as she could, Carlotta Grimaldi helped the girl backwards the two steps to her bed from where she had fallen. Ariel was quite light, even for being as petite as she was, but the older woman wasn't Eric or Carlson, or even Sael or Aubrey for that matter. Thus, getting the girl back to her bed was somewhat awkward and difficult, especially since Ariel herself seemed able to help almost not at all.

Slowly the Housekeeper lowered the former mermaid back down to the edge of her bed, noticing how the girl's wary eyes darted from her, to the floor, to her feet, then back again to the bed behind her. "There we go." The older woman soothed. Aside from her increasingly shallow breathing, the young princess was strangely quiet.

In fact, Ariel's full concentration was given to her precarious position against Carlotta Grimaldi. She was frightened that she was going to fall once again. It had hurt as badly this time as it always did. Her right arm ached where her elbow had smashed into the floor, but she was lucky that it had struck first before either her face or head, catching both in her fall. Otherwise she knew her injuries would likely have been much worse. She had struck her head more than once before when still a mermaid and remembered well both the disorientation and pain that each time had followed after she had awakened.

"Headmistress, is the Princess _well_, is everything alright in here?" a voice asked in an accented English from behind Ariel, from the direction of the inner doors to her room. She wondered if it was the same young soldier who had blushed so terribly when he had first looked at her earlier that afternoon.

"Yes Private. The poor dear just took a spill."

Ariel also remembered how each time she had awakened that her father had been there, looking down into her eyes, looking down upon her with such terrible distress in his own. Oh, how he must love her, she thought, to worry and look upon her so. She felt then a sudden, terrible pang of guilt, of sadness, of loneliness. She missed her father, Attina, her other sisters and her friends terribly, especially now that the human world, wondrous though it might be, was proving to be not only incomprehensible, but hostile to her, just as her father had warned.

"Is she alright? Is there anything we can do to help Headmistress?" the voice continued. "Should we alert the Prince?"

It was much worse on land, _falling_. Ariel _hated_ falling … like nothing else she had found of the mundane hazards of life ashore, it terrified her, and reminded her every time of her alienness to that dominion.

"Eh…, not at the moment Private, but I may need you to help the Princess to her bath."

"Yes Headmistress. If you need assistance we're right out here. Just call for us and we'll be there faster than you can blink an eye." the young man offered as he drew the twin doors closed behind him, leaving the pair slightly ajar as he did so.

To the former mermaid falling was the most alien of human experiences, both in its uncontrollability and the inevitability of pain once it had begun; and worst of all, how she could never seem to realize when it was _going to happen_. She had tried, tried ever harder to take care, to walk carefully in places unfamiliar to her, to look first before she stepped, to be cautious on stairs and in high places; but the concept of height itself seemed stubbornly difficult for her body and her instincts to apprehend.

This time, it was her legs themselves that seemed to have failed her.

"Now, sweetheart, what happened?" Carlotta asked, interrupting the girl's dark reverie as she helped Ariel back to her pillows and lifted the girl's now limp legs and their skirts up to the bed.

Ariel looked up at the Housekeeper as she pulled herself backward onto her bed with difficulty, using only her hands and arms, stifling a sob as she did so. Silently, she shook her head slowly from side to side. _"I don't know."_she replied quietly, her voice once again barely a whisper.

The former mermaid continued to silently question herself. How could she have prevented _this_? What had she _done wrong now_? What if she could _never walk again_? Ariel struggled against these thoughts, against her fears. She loved her human world and she loved _Eric __more than anything else__;_ she needed _so much more_ of _both of them_; and she was sure she would do it _all over again_ if she had to, _every … last … thing_.

She_would,_she told herself. She _would._ She just _couldn't_ give up. Everything would be fine, everything would turn out well. It just _had_ to.

Once again, Ariel found herself desperately wishing that Eric were there, knowing that if he had been he would have caught her; and that even if he hadn't, his touch alone would have made the pain go away as it always seemed to. With just his mere presence, his love for her, the way that he just … just looked at her and held her, he always seemed to chase her terrors away, even the ones that she wouldn't tell him, the ones she couldn't let him know … not yet.

She thought of the way Eric would catch her effortlessly in her falls; how he would soothe her, running his strong fingers through her hair when she was distraught or worried; the way with just a smile he could banish her worries and anxieties, drive away her fears and nightmares. He always did so with such ease, with such calm, leaving her with the same hopes and dreams she had held in her heart when she had first dragged herself out of the surf onto the windswept shore those many weeks ago, before she had finally succumbed to what she had done to herself, sure that she was going to die.

Her pain had been worse _then_ … _far worse_, as if the word "pain" even approached describing the utter _torment _the Witch's potion had inflicted upon her as it had ripped her apart from within, as it had remolded the remnants of her former body into her present.

She remembered what she now knew to be like burning fire in her chest as her delicate gills and lungs and who knows how many other organs had boiled, melted and flowed within her, congealing and reforming all too slowly into their human equivalents as she had tried to scream but could not.

She remembered what it felt like as the power of the Witch's draught had ripped her tail and lower spine into two raw halves, as torn flesh and riven bone had seethed and flowed, and though she could not see it (for by then she could see nothing), coalesced into the very two legs that had just now failed her.

Her convulsions had left her barely able to move at that moment, much less swim, a human skill she now knew to be utterly beyond her, not just then, but even now.

She remembered the crimson cloud that had hung thick in the water about her as she had struggled to reach the surface. Today had not been the first day in her life as a human that Ariel had shed her own blood; no, as a human she had been born in it.

It was clear to her now too what the Witch's true price had been, not her voice; not _just_ her voice; and it was a price that she had not yet paid. She shuddered as she wrapped her arms about herself, becoming very small as she reflexively pulled her slender legs beneath herself.

So many weeks ago. Had it really been _just_ _weeks_?

Carlotta watched worriedly as Ariel collapsed into a sitting fetal position, noting with care that the former mermaid was still able to at least move her legs, though the Housekeeper wasn't quite sure that the girl herself realized it. _"Well__… that's__better now."_ she said quietly.

Ariel's dark red eyebrows furrowed as she drew into thought, looking up to Carlotta with pleading eyes. "W…when I tried to stand up, my legs just … I don't know the word for it. They wouldn't work, and when I tried to remember how to make them stay straight, I … I couldn't." A short sob escaped her as her shoulders began to heave as the girl's right hand went to her eyes, drawing away the tears that insisted upon forming therein.

"But honey, you were standing perfectly well this morning." the Housekeeper offered, sitting down on the edge of the bed just beside Ariel as she wrapped her arms around the girl once again.

"Yes … but …" The girl replied, looking down herself at her legs, now folded neatly beneath her.

"And just now you moved both legs."

"I did?" she asked, stopping to stare now at her two pink feet. Wait. She _had_moved them, she could still _feel_ the sensation of her skirts wrapped up against her calves and thighs, the odd coolness of the sea breeze tickling at her feet and toes.

"Carlotta, I don't understand." Ariel said, looking up at her friend. "I can still feel my legs and feet, but I can't, I can't move them. They won't move when I try to make them."

"But you just did honey."

"I know, but they won't move _now_."

Carlotta sat holding the girl, a look of perplexity painted on the woman's face. Thinking again back to her conversation with Eric, the Housekeeper's visage slowly transformed from one of befuddlement to one of suspicion, the woman's reason and intuition now both working in tandem.

"It's been a bad day for you, hasn't it sweetheart?" she asked, breaking the momentary silence that had descended upon the room; that had descended between the two.

"What?" Ariel replied softly, surprised by the question.

"A bad day, dear." the woman offered gently, pausing before she continued as the breeze blew a lock of the young princess's crimson hair into her eyes. "I mean, hardly anything has gone right for you, has it?" she asked, gently brushing the errant strands back into place behind the girl's right ear.

Ariel looked to her friend, confused, then looked down at her legs, wiping the tears from her eyes. "No, it's been _awful._" she sobbed quietly, the last word emerging as merely a whisper, burying her head back against the Housekeeper's shoulder, not really trying anymore to hold back her fear and anguish. She had cried a lot today, but it hadn't been nearly enough; she felt like crying more … a lot more.

"Bad enough for you to want to run away, to want go back home?" Carlotta continued. "Well, to _swim away_ I suppose_,_rather than_run_, right?"

"_N … n … no …"_ Ariel sniffed, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

The very thought of … _leaving_, of diving back into the sea and swimming away back to her home horrified the former mermaid. After she had spoken, though, Ariel realized that it was that very same desperate desire that had lingered continually at the back of her mind, clouding her fears, shaping her actions, ever since the sailors had said those terrible things about her that morning.

She thought of Henrik Knudsen, his huge powerful frame towering over her, massive like a great shark, muscles taut with rage at her very existence, unwilling to listen, unwilling to feel, his merciless eyes full of unyielding hate with that look he had given her more than once. Not a dead look like the black eyes of a shark though, but a human look, a killing look. She was afraid of Henrik Knudsen, almost as afraid as she was of falling, maybe more.

Oh, she had known things before, entities that had wanted to hurt her, to do things to her she hadn't quite understood, save that they would have been horrible, but those things, they were in the past. Henrik Knudsen, he was in her future. Thus, despite knowing that he was Eric's friend and that he couldn't be all bad, she knew what he wanted for her, and she couldn't not be afraid of him, no matter how hard she tried. She had had too many adventures, been hurt too many times to have _not_ learned to recognize the dire nature of her situation. Not only now could she not swim, she couldn't walk either. She couldn't run to try to escape. All that was standing in between her and Henrik was Eric, his family, and friends.

Oh, it would have been so easy to just slip away beneath the welcoming waves, to dart off into the warm sea, to swim away from threatening human sailors and healers, from creatures that bit into her and drank her blood leaving no marks, from falling and tripping over herself in so many ways. It would be so easy to just swim away from all of it so that she didn't feel always so lost, so that she didn't feel so often a burden to Grimsby, to Carlotta … to Eric. She could just swim away from her fears and her guilt. It would be so easy to swim away and no longer take advantage of Eric's love by being so … useless.

But then … she would be alone again.

Yes, she would have her father, her sisters, the sea once again, but it would be the same as before, the very same. She would lose her humanity that she had fought so hard for, fought so hard for and lost; the same humanity that Eric had saved for her, that her father had restored to her, all so that she could have her most precious of dreams … her _One_ … her true love. If she went back now, she would be betraying both of them, Eric and her father; she would be betraying Carlotta, Grimsby, even Max, and now the old sailor friend of Eric's who had all been so loving and caring to her. She would be betraying herself.

Worst of all, she would _lose_ them all, there would be no more Max … there would be no more _Eric_.

It was a distant voice, one she could barely hear against the raging of the seas, against a mounting storm beneath reddening skies the color of her own blood. It had been _his_voice. _Eric's_ voice.

_"No! … I won't leave you!"_

She _couldn't_. She _couldn't_ leave Eric, not after all he had risked and done to save her from the very doom she had brought down upon herself and her family, her people.

She couldn't swim away, because she could no longer swim. She couldn't run away either, because she could no longer stand.

He had asked her to _trust him_ … and she did, she _did_, he was all she had left; but she was _so afraid_, and Eric wasn't there, there with her. She knew he wanted to be but …

"Honey, are you there?" Carlotta asked. "Can you still hear me?"

Ariel started, breaking out of her growing internal dread and snapping her head up to look at Carlotta with sad, questioning eyes.

"Bad enough for you to want to _swim away_, I asked." the Housekeeper repeated.

The former mermaid nodded softly looking down again, "I … I don't want to Carlotta, but … I can't help it. I'm so _scared_." The young woman broke down into a fit of sobs. "I … I …" she choked for air between tears "…don't ... don't know what I'm … doing. Everything is so strange, and I'm al … always so stupid and … and … co ... con ... confused, and today has been so … so … _horrible_." she followed, laying her head once again against Carlotta's shoulder as her sobs became deeper and more persistent.

As the girl broke down so completely, all that Carlotta felt she could do was to simply hold her, stroking her back and her long, soft hair.

"I don't want to … to … go home … I _don't_." Ariel blurted out, her words mingling with her sobs as she took a sudden gulp of air, trying hard to simply breathe. "… b … but … I can't help … can't help wanting to be … someplace … someplace … safe." she paused, her back heaving once more as she gasped for air again and again between sobs. "I don't want to lose you or … or … Aubrey, or Max, or … or …" she paused again, catching in a breath that hurt too much to let go of once again.

"Or _Eric_, dear?"

The former mermaid's sobs grew much worse as she nodded her head, unable to say her love's name out of the simple fear that doing so would make her nightmares come true. Once again, she collapsed into tears against the Housekeeper.

"Max, honey," the Housekeeper asked, looking down to the sheepdog, whose fur-covered eyes instantly met her own. "… It's time to go find Eric, bring him here."

With a low _ruff_ the dog stood and was at the doors, scratching at them. Alerted by the disturbance, one of the guardsmen opened them, only to have the sheepdog whip out between his and his partner's legs, barking as he charged from the landing and off down the stairs into the chambers and rooms below.

Private Lund looked into the room, a worried look graven into his face even more than before. "Mistress, is the Princess alright? Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Thank you, I think she'll be alright in due time, she's just had better days than today." the Headmistress replied quietly, looking up at Private Lund with a soft motherly smile as she stroked the sobbing young maiden's back. "And thank you for asking, but there's nothing you can do to help her _in here_; just keep her safe from whatever is _out there_."

"Yes Mistress." Lund said, stepping back, the look of worry unabated upon his face as he looked at the obviously distraught former mermaid. It bothered him, for she had always been said to be so excited and joyful in the stories he had heard and what little he had previously seen of her. She had seemed so happy when he had seen her near the end of the morning. But now, what could have happened to have distressed the young beauty so terribly? Reluctantly, more out of respect than desire, Jens pulled the two tall doors closed behind him.

The doors closed until only a crack remained between them, then that too disappeared. Carlotta let the quiet that otherwise pervaded the room enfold the heaving sobs of the girl gently held within her arms. The little breeze that had stirred about the room had remained and grown somewhat stronger, but was no comfort to a princess whose dreams seemed nearly shattered by her misfortunes that day.

Carlotta had seen Ariel like this only once before, many weeks ago just days after she had arrived, when as the Housekeeper now knew, the girl had had all hope stolen from her, not only of winning Eric's deepest love and remaining human … but of living at all. That day had been worse, but not by much the Housekeeper worried.

Sometimes a good fit of tears, a really good cry, was just what a soul needed to deal with disappointment, pain, and loss; but letting the girl suffer amid false fears would do her no good. Carlotta just couldn't let her bright little seaflower benumb herself so with whatever wild anxieties she had conjured up from within her lovely heart. Eric wasn't there, so Carlotta Grimaldi was going to do something; praying he had been right in what he had told her.

"Honey … do you remember when we first met?" she whispered, being careful not to change the rhythm of the gentle circles with which she stroked her little girl's back, taking time to let her words be heard and, soon enough, recognized, understood.

After perhaps half a minute, she felt the maiden still somewhat in her arms, her sobs becoming quieter, her body's heaving lessening. Guessing that she had her charge's attention, the Housekeeper continued despite the girl's lack of a verbal response. After all, it wasn't the first time she had been both distraught and silent.

"That didn't seem to be a very good day for you either." she paused, shifting her right hand now to stroke the former mermaid's long, soft tresses.

Ariel sat there against Carlotta, quiet now, finally having managed to once again still her tears and sobs. It had been a month since she had cried so hard, felt such utter anguish, like her world was imploding in upon her, ready to crush her. At least this time, she wasn't alone, though she still wished with all of her heart that Eric were there. Maybe Max would bring him like Carlotta had asked; but then that would take him away from his men, from trying to win Henrik over to her side. She felt yet another pang of guilt, guilt that she should be the reason to pull Eric away from trying to help her, from trying to solve the problem she had created. She _had _created it hadn't she? Could Carlotta be right, had she really done _nothing wrong_?

"To be honest, I didn't know what to think when I first saw you, sunburned and only half alive in Eric's arms, if even that; not able to walk or even speak, all covered in sand and seaweed, and that shirt and flimsy sailcloth he had draped over you."

Nestled in Carlotta's arms, Ariel remained silent, though by now Carlotta knew the girl well enough to be sure she had her attention. The woman could simply feel it. When Ariel became so still, she was usually listening very carefully, as though such stillness and silence was of great importance to those who lived beneath the waves when they wanted to hear.

"But when you finally opened those pretty eyes of yours, oh, how you smiled and blushed when Eric spoke to you." Carlotta furrowed her brows in seeming frustration. "That boy was _so upset_ when he realized you couldn't speak. He'd been looking for you for weeks you know … well, you already know that, don't you."

In her arms, Carlotta felt the slight nod of a head. Good. The girl _was_ listening, just being quiet as the Housekeeper had thought. It was much an improvement over how she had been just minutes before.

"But here we are, aren't we. You're where you always _wished_ to be, and it's plain for anyone to see how much Eric loves you; and do you know what sweetheart?" Carlotta paused at the question, hoping the girl would emerge from her stillness and answer.

Five, maybe ten seconds of silence ensued. From beneath the mass of soft crimson hair in her arms, Carlotta Grimaldi heard come the tiniest of voices. _"W… what."_

"Well, it's plain to see that you love him every bit as much." The Housekeeper smiled, pausing to let the young princess consider her words before continuing.

She felt the girl nod again, slowly, even weakly Grimaldi worried.

"_I do." _came the girl's voice, still almost a whisper.

"We all know now who you are honey, who you've been, and maybe even a bit of who you're going to be; and believe me, you've won every last one of our hearts. _We_ all _love_ _you_ too."

A soft sniff erupted from the girl as her hand darted beneath the mass of her long red bangs, once again whisking away unwanted tears.

"There, there, my little fish." Carlotta whispered in her own soft voice as she continued to smooth the princess's hair with her right hand and fingers. "And you _are_ someplace safe … _your new home_, our home; and we want you here so much that we couldn't _bear_ to lose you, any of us." She shifted her caress again, now back to the young maiden's back, drawing small circles with her fingers as she felt the girl's sobs finally subside, with just the sound of a girl's tears remaining.

Ariel lay there in the woman's arms, tears continuing to flow gently down her cheeks, feeling the woman's loving arms enclosing her protectively, feeling how Carlotta's gentle hand swept down the long, delicate red waves of her hair again and softly again. The woman's gentle touch reminded her of how Attina had also done so, done so, so often; how under the sea her hair would float and hover about her, refusing so stubbornly to be gathered and brushed. Yet Attina would do so every time, patiently collect her littlest sister's long wayward tresses and brush them free of snags, twists and knots, just as their mother would have, talking to her and comforting her all the while, telling her stories, telling her how she loved her.

How though could she have been so lucky, so "blessed" as Eric's friend Minister Jensen had said of her, to have found such people; or really, for them to have found _her_? Eric and her new family were every bit as loving as her own, yet they were _human_, they were _human_ … so very _human_, even as _she_ now was.

Henrik Knudsen notwithstanding, Carlotta and Aubrey, Hans and the Captain, even Max were proof that she had been right, _so_ right … about humanity. And _Eric_.

In her short life, never but never had she dreamt of finding a love such as _his_, of finding someone both so like and so perfect for her, of being so blessed, so fortunate; nor could she have imagined that love being in the _human_ world, not at least until she had first heard and then seen him on the deck of his ship now many weeks ago.

She was sure that they loved her, Eric most especially, and in so short a time, just a month, if for no other reason than she had come to love them so much herself. How was that even possible? Surely they each must have the most beautiful and mysterious souls that humans alone possessed to be able to and want to love her, to adopt her as it seemed they had as their very own daughter. How could she have been so blessed, so fortunate, that Eric had been the first of all humans she had seen so closely?

"_I … I love you too Carlotta."_

It came as a whisper, the maiden's soft words, issuing faintly from beneath her hanging red bangs, the movement of her lips unseen to Carlotta Grimaldi. The Housekeeper already knew of course, knew how the girl plainly felt, but this was the first time she had ever said so in words. Tears welled in the woman's eyes, as she tightened her now half embrace ever so slightly, and continued to draw delicate circles with the fingers of her right hand on the girl's back, just beneath her neck.

"_I know you do dear."_ She replied softly, almost whispering back herself, lowering her lips to kiss the top of her little girl's head. "You're going to come through this, _you are_. We _all_ are. You just wait and see."

Again a quiet descended upon the room, a quiet between them, in which even the breeze seemed to abate ever so slightly, almost as if it were respectful of the moment. Beyond the room's doors, out in the Gallery, the steady tick of the grandfather clock could be heard, rhythmically counting off the heartbeat of the day.

"_Why?" _Ariel whispered.

Her voice was followed by a moment of quiet, a sniff, a whisk of small slender fingers against wet eyes.

"_Why is this … happening, Carlotta?"_

"Happening?" the Housekeeper asked softly, letting her gentle caress and warm embrace say in the language of touch and feeling what words could never truly say to the girl. "You mean this _frightful _day?"

The girl said nothing, but instead Carlotta felt her head nod slightly against her bosom. She thought for a moment, remembering words her mother had once offered. The Housekeeper considered them, how they might be received, then decided to gently offer them to her own little girl.

"Because all things worth having are _hard_, love." She offered in a soft voice. "Because without knowing _sorrow_ we can't understand and appreciate the beauty of happiness. The Lord never forgets us though. He's _always_ there with us, just like he was with _Job_."

Ariel thought back to the sermon they had attended together, now many weeks ago, one she hadn't quite understood; this like so many things, almost everything really, of the human world. Pastor Jensen had spoken of the sea, he had spoken of things, monsters called _Leviathan _and_ Behemoth_, creatures Ariel had _never_ before heard of in all of her days under the sea, this as he had told the story of a suffering human from long, long ago; a man … named _Job_.

She had felt so sorry for that man, how he had lost everything, how he had suffered so terribly and in so many ways when he had done nothing at all wrong. She had been, and remained, mystified that he had still kept loving the god that Eric's family worshipped, had still kept believing in that god's goodness, wisdom, and benevolence despite his injuries and pain.

Was there _really_ a _Satan_? Did he try and torment people with the approval of the human god, to test their loyalty and love? The thought frightened her, that if he _were_ real, he would torment and _try_ _her_ too … now that she was human.

Why a loving god, as Eric and Pastor Jensen said their god to be, would do such a thing, would allow such a thing … troubled her.

She was still learning of such matters, but wondered if she could or would ever come to truly believe what Eric believed. When they wed, would she truly gain a human soul, gain a share in Eric's as the Witch had promised? Would the god that Eric worshipped welcome her too when she one day died? Was that god even real; or was he, like the many old gods of the Sea, names and memories almost forgotten, no more real than dreams and nightmares? Was this why she was suffering now, now, after the promise of such happiness had filled her heart. Was she being _tested_? Was she … like _Job_?

"Do you remember how you felt that day love? It wasn't so long ago, just a month and a little, really."

Carlotta's question pulled Ariel once again back to the present, the moment, away from sermons and thoughts of mysterious gods and tormenting angels. It took a moment for her friend's question to seep in, to reach her awareness and thoughts.

Ariel thought back to that day, that day but weeks ago that had begun in joyful happiness, a joy that had been shattered, leaving her in such tears as she hadn't cried since that terrible day, so, so many years before when her mother had died so suddenly, so unfairly.

The cruelest irony of all was that the youngest daughter of Triton couldn't even remember her mother clearly, not really, though sometimes in dreams, in fleeting flashes of memory too brief and elusive to hold onto. Her own mother was a ghost to Ariel.

True, she had thereafter had Attina, she had had Alana, she had had her other sisters, all of whom she loved dearly. Always though, there had been a distance between them, an inability to quite relate, most especially in all matters of things … human. In this way, she had always felt so _alone_.

Maybe that was why she had thought so little of her six sisters when she had been seduced into going to the Witch. She had just needed the pain to _stop_, the loneliness, the alienation she had always felt from her own people, from her own _family_.

For some reason, in her heart she knew, knew more than just hoped; knew that Eric would understand, would love her, would want her as deeply as she needed to be wanted. He would banish her loneliness forever, becoming her guide and guardian in the mysterious world of humanity.

With him there would be the joy of learning, and no need to fear a pointless, empty death of seafoam like her mother's, like that all her people must eventually suffer. She would be with Eric, forever; forever loved, forevermore unafraid.

Ariel had been angry when she had left her grotto, when she had foolishly allowed herself to be drawn into the Witch's lair. It was such an irony that her anger had given way so quickly to what she had sought desperately to flee in the first place. It had given way … to fear.

She had not expected the rotting corpses of drowned sailors; nor the flayed bones of dead men. She had not expected a pretty little mermaid, a mere girl like herself cruelly strangled, her face forever frozen into a twisted look of horror, her body entwined and infested by the writhing, hateful things that guarded the entrance and approaches to that terrible place of darkness and deadly scalding waters.

And the _Witch, the __Ulusûlêth__ ..._

Ariel had expected something … meran, at least something not entirely unlike the Eärhin.

Whatever She was, whatever It was … was nothing like Ariel's people, at least it hadn't appeared so at first until it had changed, but instead a thing of shadow and swirling darkness, cold as ice.

It was hungry too, the surrounding chill freezing the blood in the little mermaid's veins as it had ripped her throat open from within, eager to claim its "price."

The pain had been too much, too much for her, and as she had coughed up and choked upon her own blood Ariel had swooned. At first she had barely noticed the crystal phial clenched in her right hand, the potion, clear as the limpid sea, yet blazing forth like a perilous silver sun; far too terrible to look upon; yet even more perilous, she had found … to drink.

How she had come even close to the shore she didn't know, for after her ordeal in the lair Ariel had been far too spent and in far too much pain to gain the strand.

In her last act as a mermaid, the young princess had bravely, desperately loosed the stopper, barely able to hold herself above the swells and breaking waves; and she had drunk.

That day she had been reborn in torment, sure of her own death as she struggled and again failed to reach the far sands. Instead she struggled to breathe as a human, struggled against the agony and convulsions of her renascent body. She had felt herself slipping beneath the waves, her ruined body failing, her half-formed lungs burning for air. That was the last thing she remembered.

How she had finally reached those sands, to this day she had no idea, how she had not drowned, how she had lived … despite what the Witch had truly intended for her.

So _yes_ … Ariel _remembered_ how she had felt that day.

It was the one place, foremost of many that she had buried in her memories, being fearful of ever again approaching that place, her ordeal that day, even in thought. Why was it here again, now, so open and so terribly raw, as though she was once again suffering through it?

Carlotta felt the shudder tear through the girl as the soft wail of her voice shattered the quiet of the room. Against her, she felt Ariel pull herself in, tightening into a little fetal ball as the girl shook violently in her arms.

Ariel had never told anyone of how she had … become human, other than that there had been a potion, the price of her voice, and a Witch – the same being that Eric had slain when _it_ had come hungry for its prize, when it had come hungry for _her_.

At least, she hoped that Eric had slain _it_ … had slain _Her_. She was sure that he had. Yes, she was _sure_ of it. He _had_ to have.

_"Ariel, honey! What's wrong?!"_ Carlotta cried in alarm, regretting her choice of taking the girl down this path. Even on that terrible day weeks ago, she had never seen such a reaction from her little one, only earlier this very day had she ever heard her utter such a pained cry of despair.

What had she done wrong, said wrong? Just as she had been when she saw Ariel seemingly thrown to the hard stone quay, and again when the girl had slumped in Eric's arms, Carlotta was terrified for the girl. This conversation had suddenly and unexpectedly, gone terribly _wrong_.

The Housekeeper prayed that Max would bring Eric soon.


	18. Chapter 16 - Cold Wet Nose

**Author's Note: **_This chapter was something of an experiment, and certainly a lot of fun to write. It was also a necessity for the story. I would like to dedicate this chapter to my favorite four mermaids, listed in no particular order other than when I first read their stories and eventually corresponded with them. _

_Crisis Rose, Converse R Life, TardisBlueMermaid, and TheForeverDrifter, you are the absolute best, thank you so much for your encouragement and friendship!_

_**Publication Date: **__Thursday, March 17th, 2016_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 16 – Cold Wet Nose**

_**~~~ Saturday, the 16**__**th**__** of November, 1805 AD ~~~**_

_**~ 4:20 p.m. ~**_

_**Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix**_

Maximillian slipped out through the twin doors of the bedchamber and down the stairs before either of the Master's two packmates were even aware he had passed. Some things one could just _smell_. Around the newel of the upper gallery stairs he wound, disappearing down the succeeding lower flights as fast as his four furry paws could take him, in his quick descent to the Dance Hall and beyond.

Having smelled the _fear _erupt again in the Girl from the Sea, the sheepdog had been feeling ever more desperate to seek out the Master and bring him back to help her. The Master didn't like it when the Girl from the Sea was unhappy, and _especially_ when she was upset or afraid, and neither did _he_.

Max liked how she smelled when she was happy and felt safe; her scent then made him feel like a puppy playing in the sea again, bouncing amidst the waves and chasing the sleek things that swam underneath them.

Fortunately, like most people, the Master was_ easy_ to track; not that Maximillian wasn't a _people_ too.

Lowering his nose to the Dance Hall floor, the sheepdog began to sniff. He quickly distinguished and _duly noted_ the awful and frightening fetor that lingered along the way the Bad Man had taken on his arrival and departure. The sheephound wouldn't forget that _smell_, nor could he had he tried. Instead he noted it for later, later when the Master and his friends would need it. For now, though, his task was simply _finding_ the Master.

After growing up as a puppy for so many years with the Master, finding the young man was usually quite a trivial task for the sheepdog. Well, following his _scent _was trivial, especially in this new palace wherein all scents and odors had long become known to the dog. And that was it. In an instant, the dog had the scent, the sense, of where the Master had gone. Across the Dance Hall and Ballroom he tore, towards the Grand Stair.

The Master – light earth, crushed green leaves and salty air, though not as much or even the same earth and leaves as the Bright Man. That was his wonderful _musk_ that was uniquely his own, the same that the Girl from the Sea so clearly appreciated by the way her own pretty scent of sea flowers and a faint hint of fresh salt air changed, grew even _prettier_ and more distinct when she was with or even near him, even if just in thought. Her songs reminded Maximillian of her scent, or was it her scent that reminded him of her songs? _"More of flowers, though always still the sea."_ thought Max in his doggish way as he raced along the tiled floors in near silence, only the soft padding of his shaggy paws to be heard.

That was what Maximillian loved the most about the Girl from the Sea, how beautiful, how very _right_ she smelled with the Master, how new and _perfect_ for the master she had smelled when his nose had first discerned her presence, when everyone else around had been so happy for the Master. Right then he knew, knew that she should be the Master's mate_, and that the Master would be the perfect mate for her_.

Female humans like the Girl from the Sea were so rare, and she was the sort of girl the dog wanted to see and make happy, unlike the others who had wanted to mate with the Master. The Thing from the Mist had been the worst. Each had only wanted to possess the Master, to hurt and control him in one way or another when all that the Master wanted was someone who would care about him like Max did, like the Woman with Treats did. The Girl from the Sea, she had just wanted to make the Master happy, to be happy with him, because of him. The Master could smell this, and he wanted to make _her_ happy too.

As he loped along, Max considered that she deserved kisses,_ lots_ of kisses, and maybe some nudging and herding.

Smelling and hearing her hurting so badly made the sheepdog ache inside and want to whine, and now only the Master could make her hurting stop. This was something he knew in a way that only dogs and other animals simply knew things, when the earth would shake, when a bad storm was coming, when one's dinner bowl was going to be empty when a nice meaty bone was in order. Some things one could just feel, some things one could just _smell_.

Maximillian could feel and _see _the Master clearly, for like the Bright Man, part of the boy's smell was the exact opposite of the Fetor, the strange feeling and darkness that had come with the man who had hurt his Master's mate so badly. The Master and the Bright Man, both of them _belonged_, yet each also stood apart in a good way from the palace, just as the Girl from the Sea _belonged_, and made everything better for everyone except the Scared Man and his pack.

Only the Fetor that the strange human had brought with him, the same Fetor the dog had felt pervading the air about the Girl from the Sea, stood apart in a _bad_ way. It was a way that made the dog's tummy ache, his ears hurt, and his nose sting, a way that made him want to go and eat lots of fresh grass and clean earth.

_Dance Hall and Ballroom, Grand Stair, Great Library. _The dog didn't actually _think _of those places and things by such names, their human names, but simply knew them for what they were, by their shapes, their sizes, and their smells; rather, he knew them by their relationships to one another.

He knew what the Master and humans _called_ those places though, how those words _sounded_, just as he understood things humans said to him sometimes, _often actually_, when they spoke to him. Maximillian especially liked how affectionate and kind the voices of the Girl from the Sea and the Girl with Flowers were when they spoke to him, how the nails at the tips of their tiny paws felt when they gave him their attention. They made him feel loved, like a puppy again, a puppy frolicking in the playful wash of the sea.

"_Up … or down?"_ That was the question to be answered with a sniff when he arrived. As Maximillian had known it would, the Master's scent followed the stairs downward and probably out along the length of the first floor into the East Wing.

"… _Wait." _Max sniffed the air and slowed, his right blue eye peeking out from beneath his long bangs. There was someone else there too, some _them_, not far away.

Maximillian could smell him, no, _them,_ their scents fading and receding. Maximillian had smelled both earlier that day, not too long ago, both outside and in the room where the Girl from the Sea slept.

One scent he had known for as long as he had known the Master's. It was a trusty scent, all salt water, gnarled ropes, tarry pitch, and old bird-feathers. The other he had recently learned, was a good source for meaty bones. Her scent was _wildflowers_; green grass, fresh air, and wildflowers, especially when the Master was nearby.

As with the names of places and things, the sheepdog didn't know any of his _pack_ and their friends so much by the words they used for one another as much as their unique scents. Just as the Girl from the Sea reminded him of the Ocean, the Old Ship Man reminded Maximillian of just that, a sturdy old ship. Likewise, the Girl with Flowers reminded him of a patch of wildflowers, the kind best for rustling in and rubbing against because they smelled so nice, because they made him feel like a puppy again, when there had been brothers and sisters with whom to play, when the Master had chosen him and played with him too.

Down the long, broad hallway he loped, occasionally lowering his nose to sniff, more out of pure habit and pride rather than any sort of uncertainty. He already knew where he would find the Master. Now he just wondered if the Old Ship Man and the Girl with Flowers could help him make things right for the Girl from the Sea.

Usually, a sharp friendly bark or soft whine was the best way to approach the Old Ship Man and the Girl with Flowers, at least if a good neck rub or scratch behind the ears was in order. In this case though, finding and bringing the Master back to his future mate was paramount, so that she could feel safe and be happy again. Max didn't like it at all when she smelled so afraid, any more than when any of the females of his pack were upset or afraid. In any case though, alerting the humans ahead to his presence seemed like a good idea to Maximillian. A good solid bark was in order, but, no, maybe a soft pathetic whine that would be normally good for a treat. He wasn't sure.

What came out was something in between, only half a bark, and more than half a pathetic whine … not exactly what the distraught sheepdog had intended.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Max has peeked out in Sael before and several readers have enjoyed catching teasing little glimpses of those blue doggie eyes. For me, Max has always been one of the brightest highlights and one of the most interesting characters in the Little Mermaid. _

_Voiced by Frank Welker of "Scooby Doo" fame, he arguably has as many lines as either Eric or Ariel, though most of these are single syllable barks, sniffs and whines. Arguably, Max knows more about what is really going on in the movie than any other character, and has a particularly good sense for both Ariel and Vanessa and who they are. _

_I wondered what it might be like, to have a look from the mutt's point of view, and even considered writing a whole series of vignettes around that theme. _

_"Loyal, goofy, lovable, sweet, happy-go-lucky, dog-like, playful, rambunctious, devoted, observant, and affectionate," that is how Disney Wikia describes him, further noting that his "Likes" are simply: "Playing with Eric, __Ariel__."_

_Notice that. It's not "playing with Ariel," nor "playing with Eric and Ariel," it's just … "Ariel." _

_I know how he feels. That's how I feel about a whole lot of you too._

_(Oh, and for those who are wondering at how uncharacteristically short this chapter is for me, it was the first section of three. The remaining two chapters currently total well over 15,000 words, and I will be publishing them shortly following final editing and refinement. The succeeding chapters are, or will likely be entitled #17 – Dire Matters, and #18 – Pneuma.)_

* * *

**_Acknowledgments and Credits:_**

**_Cover Art:_** _The cover art is a mirrored "Harvey the Sheepdog" by Rebecca Korpita__, used with permission for this chapter._

_The link to the original is _http fineartamerica com featured harvey-the-sheepdog-rebecca-korpita html

**_Creative Contributions:_** _None that I can think of in this chapter, though LocalSportsTeam's "Spring" definitely made me want to write more about Max._

* * *

**_In Memoriam:_** _for "Pups" (… and Debbie)_

_I guess I should probably mention my own dog here as more than a bit inspiring regarding Max — Apollo, alias "Pups," as well as the thoughts and casual (i.e., often funny) observations of my various co-workers who are dog owners and lovers. Pups was a beagle who was most certainly a "people." He was house-raised but not necessarily house-broken, and had such a distinct personality that he was really a member of the family, a fourth child._

_Max's relationship with Ariel has always reminded me of Apollo's relationship with Debbie, my younger sister. Apollo was a frisky floppy-eared beagle who was terrified of rabbits, and Debbie was a petite blue-eyed blonde who was terrified of dogs. When Debbie was still very young, perhaps still a baby, this fear was quite pronounced._

_When she was a baby, Debbie happened to be very precocious, and my parents maintained that this was possibly because she had two year-older twin brothers who doted on her, constantly talked to her, and basically tried to teach her everything that they knew (which admittedly, couldn't have been all that much). _

_As the story goes, Grandma and Grandpa (on my Dad's side) had stopped by unannounced and had brought their little dog "George Oliver," with them. _

_Grandma wanted to bring George Oliver inside, and Mom, knowing that Debbie was terrified of dogs, said that she couldn't for that reason. Grandma, being the rather selfish woman that she was, proceeded to try to convince Debbie that George Oliver was actually her dad's "brother." Debbie looked at Grandma and replied, apparently without any disrespect at all …_

_"I know a doag when I thee one." _

_As Dad recounted this story again for me today, he said that Mom could hardly keep from breaking out into laughter._

_Years later, the first time we brought Apollo home, he started yipping and jumping at Debbie and chased her up onto the top of the air conditioning unit out in the back yard of our house. There she was, cornered, treed even … by a puppy. She was probably seven, maybe eight years old by this time, but was still as afraid of animals as when she had been younger. And there was Apollo, wagging his tail, just wanting to play, with Debbie, perched up on top of that AC unit, hoping for someone to rescue her. _

_Does this sound at all … familiar … to anybody?_

_Needless to say though, it didn't take long for Debbie and Apollo to become best friends. Apollo was an in-house dog, but definitely a "downstairs" dog. He was only allowed to come up about five steps from the basement, and Debbie knew that he wouldn't come any further. So one evening she decided to leave her pizza there, about seven steps up, probably so she could get something to drink with it. _

_Of course it was safe, because Apollo would never …. _

_You can probably guess how the rest went down. _

_Those tender triangular slices of pizza crust, the molten cheese, the delectable scent (and reality) of pepperoni were apparently just too much for a mere mortal beagle to resist. No amount of newspaper swats and verbal admonition could keep that dog away from pizza … and pepperoni, which as everyone knows, is basically roundish discs of spicy bacon._

_When Debbie came back, those precious slices were gone, and in their place was a very satisfied, and likely fleeing … puppy._

_Not a very courageous puppy. The first time Apollo saw a rabbit in the backyard, was his (first) turn to flee; to flee behind the safest thing around … that being my sister … that being Debbie. Yes, unlike Max to English sheepdogs, Apollo proved something of an embarrassment to beagles everywhere. After all, beagles are the quintessential rabbit dogs, except, apparently, for the semi-housebroken Apollo kind._

_Debbie and Apollo became inseparable. He was her best friend, and the most reliable boyfriend in her young life, the most reliable boy outside her immediate family before she met her future husband. They stuck together through thick and thin, and there was no question that they absolutely adored each other. It was puppy-love, through and through._

_After Debbie left for college, you might not be surprised to find that Apollo missed her terribly. One day, Mom decided to wash the bed skirt that went around the frame of Debbie's bed. After having taken it downstairs to the laundry though, Mom couldn't find it. She didn't have to search far, though, and she found it straightaway, in Apollo's bed, with Apollo wrapped up inside it. That's how much he missed the true love of his life. Just the smell of her gave him comfort. _

_I wonder if Debbie smelled to him of flowers and salt air. She certainly loved the sun, surf, and beach; and she had certainly been a blossom; just ask any of the boys who had wanted to date her._

_It was around Christmas in 1985 or 1986 that our poor, and by then old, beagle started to have problems. Actually they had been growing worse for some time. It was a tumor in his stomach – cancer. Before Pups was actually diagnosed by the vet, he had been very, very sick. _

_All the while, Debbie stayed with him, took care of and loved him, even sleeping by his bedside at night, being afraid that he was going to die. And he did. He had to. There was no cure, no remedy, the cancer had spread too far and he was in great pain. _

_It was after Christmas that we took him to the vet, me, my brother, my father, and had him put to sleep. We didn't want him to suffer any more, and he had been suffering terribly. When we came back, it was as if Debbie was in denial, and she insisted on staying downstairs beside his bed, remaining with him in spirit, if not in body._

_About two years later, when I was home on summer break from college, Mom asked me to feel something above Debbie's left breast. It was kind of an awkward moment for me, but given my science background and whatever other reason, apparently I was the family's designated "medical expert." _

_It was enough. I knew "wrong" when I felt it._

_It was just after Christmas in 1994 that Debbie passed away, two boughts of cancer and the associated rounds of chemo and radiation having finally caught up with her, having destroyed her lungs even though the cancer too had been destroyed. I could have only imagined what that must have felt like to her, not being able to breathe, having to fight for every single breath she tried to take. _

_Her husband Kevin wrote a book about her, about them, and Apollo is in there too. He self-published it last year. So far I've only read a little of it, but what I have read was amazing, and also too much for me. _

_To this day, I can't think of her without thinking of our little beagle, when we first brought him home that day from the animal shelter. _

_When I think of Ariel and Max, I think of them ... Debbie and Apollo, of all the beautiful and funny stories of them together. I think of her, because despite her flaws, beneath it all, Debbie was a diamond, and she deserved to be loved. _

_There was a lot of Ariel in Debbie._


	19. Chapter 17 - Dire Matters

**Author's Note: **_I would like to offer my prayers to a certain little mermaid and correspondent for her quick and full recovery, and to ask those of you who believe that prayers matter in some way, that you do as well. As something of a "get well card and wish," I am publishing this chapter in advance of when I had intended to. For insight into the matter, one only need look to the following stories:_

_Crisis Rose's "Broken Strings" _

www fanfiction net /_s/11424390/1/Broken-Strings_

_ and_

_TardisBlueMermaid's "Fallen Angel" _

www fanfiction net /_s/11643378/1/Fallen-Angel_

**_* Please, get well soon little mermaid. *_**

* * *

Before I learned about this, what follows was to have been my author's note, certainly something far less somber …

_Good heavens, who let the dogs out?!_

_It has been four months since I last updated Sael, though not for a lack of effort or enthusiasm. This is, of course, not counting Max's recent turn at the keyboard. I think the mutt even wrote a review on my behalf (down boy, down!)_

_As always, my heartfelt thanks and appreciation go out to Converse R Life, Crisis Rose, Tardis Blue Mermaid, and The Forever Drifter. Thank you for your thoughtful reviews, PMs, emails, and above all … your wonderful stories._

_All of this awesomeness is what makes me wake up in the morning wanting to write more. And if you happen to see some, err, familiar thoughts and maybe names winking at you from within my stories, consider that my appreciation of everything that you young ladies have created and shared with me. Obviously, my stuff is fair game too._

**_Publication Date:_**_ Tuesday, March 22nd, 2016_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 17 – Dire Matters **

_**~~~ Saturday, the 16**__**th**__** of November, 1805 AD ~~~**_

_**~ 4:05 p.m. ~**_

_**Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix**_

Hans stood before the portal at the far end of the Eastern Archway. His husk of bread and rind of cheese now finished, he had only his revelations of what he had just learned from Henrik to carry back to Eric.

"Frederick's Apse" was the proper name for the recess, at least in theory. For some reason, out of mere respect perhaps, Hans could never bring himself to pronounce that name in the manner some of the men who knew Eric's father usually did. Hans considered it unsuitable, especially in the company of ladies. Eric's arrival three years ago had done much to defuse the resentments and ill feelings some of the men had long harbored about the matter, his manner and demeanor being so amicable and different from that of his father.

Amid the deepening shadows he stared upward, barely able to discern the rich and intricate workmanship of fine wood and patterned brass that both made up and adorned the two great doors. He wondered who had hewn the timbers from whence the doors had been made, who had wrought its many brass fittings and hinges, whose labor and genius had drawn all of it together when the palace had been built. Hans had been a younger man then of course, signing up for cruises on merchants and whalers when he had first heard about what then had been called the _Fredericksborg_ Slot, the Regent's magnificent fairy tale castle beyond the Ocean Sea. The name remained thus until just ten years ago, its duplicative name as ignored as the magnificent palace itself.

This would be the first time Hans had entered the palace alone. Something deep in the back of his mind insisted that it wasn't his place to do so, that he didn't belong in the midst of such finery. He was a rough old man, with an even rougher past, though a decent one. In his heart though, he thought about a young woman with the most striking mane of red hair and the most beautiful demeanor he had ever seen, save for that of Elna … and her mother. He grasped the handle of the right door and twisted it hard to the right, and with a loud _clack,_ drew the door open towards him.

After passing through, Hans found himself in the same Foyer into which he and the Captain had entered hours before. To his right was the Audience Hall, still quiet and dark; to his left, the adjoining lower halls – still an unexplored unknown. Over two hours had passed since he had last seen Eric, and the old sailor had grown worried, especially now that he fully understood the severity of the challenge that awaited both the prince and the young princess in the form of Henrik Knudsen, Henrik Knudsen and the silent cohort for whom he spoke.

When Hans had left Eric and Captain Carlson, the guardsman had said that the matter demanding Lord Grimsby's attention had taken him to the Great Library. Eric had mentioned that place before in passing, that it lay not far from the boy's apartments on the west end of the structure. To Hans Sael, it might as well have on the far side of the Moon, hidden as it was somewhere at the extreme extent of what to the simple old sailor seemed an edifice both labyrinthine and immense.

In the distance, shadowed in the late afternoon gloom that had crept into the East Wing, a pair of figures, women, emerged from what Hans recognized to be a stair, and what appeared to be a passage behind it, running off to the west. Their conversation, held in words low and indistinct, preceded them. Equally soft footsteps accompanied them through the shadows, growing louder as the two approached. That seemed promising. For the sake of expediency, the old man swallowed his sailor's manly pride … and decided to ask for directions. He cleared his throat to announce himself.

The two stopped in the far shadows looking up and towards their unexpected guest. Looking to each other, the taller and older of the two stepped forward into the diffuse and fading sunlight of late afternoon. As they crossed into the soft light that fell inward from the windows on the east side of the hall, Hans was surprised to find that he not only recognized one of them, but knew her quite well, for the younger of the two was none other than Matthias Larsen's youngest daughter, Gertrud Elise.

Hans berated himself for having forgotten her earlier in his silent reflection on feminine grace, for even more than Eric's intended, this young lady reminded him of Elna, especially in her hair, eyes, and slender beauty. She and her companion both wore the brown bodices and skirts of the Prince's Household, the former covering a long-sleeved light blue chemise, the latter layered over an ankle-length light blue skirt and adorned with a white apron.

"_Ah … Danmark."_ he mused to himself.

It had been just a year ago that the girl had come over on the voyage from Denmark to join her father in Printsensbakke following her mother's passing, the older girls having moved on to marriage and families of their own. Hans remembered the Captain telling him shortly after they had gotten underway for Boston about his daughter's promotion to the young Princess's retinue, and here she was.

The two slowed, finally noticing his slightly stooped figure standing amidst the far shadows.

"_Hans!"_ the younger woman cried, her voice rising in excitement as a smile rose in her eyes and spread quickly to suffuse the whole of her countenance. Without a moment of hesitation, she flew to the man and wrapped her arms him about with the best hug she could offer, practically leaping into the old man's embrace. The other woman stopped once again several feet away, careful to maintain her distance.

Hans couldn't help but smile, thinking back to when he had bounced the girl on his knee and told her tales of pirates, mermaids, and kings under the sea in the parlor of Matthias' house back in København. What, had she been seven, maybe eight then? And now to look at her … all grown up and looking so much like her mother. Oh, she was a sight to behold, such a beauty.

The old sailor returned the girl's affection, standing up a little straighter and taller while wrapping her in his arms in an embrace that was as warm as hers. Still under the watchful stare of the other woman and of a mind that he had best say something soon to explain himself, Hans replied in a quiet and respectful voice. "A fine afternoon to ye _Miss Elise_, an' ta' you as well Mistress." he offered, nodding to the young woman's companion, using the young woman's much prettier middle name which he knew her to much prefer. As old Hans spoke, he patted the young maiden softly on her back, his misshapen old felt hat clenched still in his left hand. A broad smile spread ever wider across his face, highlighting his surprisingly good teeth.

"It's good ta' see ya' agin lass."

"Gertrud, you _know _this man?" The older woman asked in Danish. She had a severe look about her, one that seemed to Hans … less than charitable.

Gertrud pulled back a foot or so to look up into Hans' eyes, smiling. "Marete, this is_ Master Hans Sael!" _she said proudly, her soft, pretty voice echoing from the windows and hanging glass chandeliers above. "Do you remember how I was telling you earlier that a man I knew had been outside on the Quay with the Princess, defending her from the other men's words?"

"_Yes."_ the older replied, half whispering in Danish as she continued to eye Hans with suspicion.

"Well, this is _him_! He and father have been friends since _before I was born_." the young woman continued, also in Danish. Then looking back to the old man, she continued, her pale blue eyes gleaming. "Hans, you were _magnificent_ this morning! I was so _proud_ of you!"

The old sailor's smile faded as he lowered his eyes. It was an uncomfortable moment for Hans, not being accustomed to receiving such praise from pretty ladies, young or old. The old man instinctively dropped his arms and began to turn and twist his trusty old hat between even older gnarled fingers.

In all his years at sea he had never really found a way to handle it, that _hat_, especially when doffed in the presence of his betters. Most sailors simply held theirs in hand, others tucked it clean away in the back waistband of their trousers. For Hans though, it had always served as a place to shunt away and stow the self-conscious discomfort he so often felt.

"T'weren't nought, Miss Elise." he replied in a low, gravelly voice. "Th' lass jus' took a bad spill after she heard the lads speakin' ill o' her. Wouldn' a' been right ta let that a go on. I'd a done th' same fer you er any other lady."

Hans couldn't help but notice that while they spoke, the elder of the two continued to eye him with a look of suspicion and deep disdain, her eyebrows narrowed and pretty lips pursed as though she was biting her tongue.

"Err, beggin' yer pardon mistress, Elise be sayin' th' truth." He smiled softly once again at the girl, seeing the approval in her eyes at the use of the name. "I'm Hans Sael, Sailing Master o' _Lyn_ an' a friend o' th' Prince's, charged wi' 'is cargoes. I'm wonderin' if ya' could point me in his direction. Been tol' 'e was in the' library." He wondered if adding his office and responsibilities would lend credence his presence.

The older maid, Marete it seemed, seemed to relent having learned the Prince's location earlier from two passing guards. Looking back at Hans, she stared for a moment, then spoke. "You were told correctly. _Master _Sael. The Prince is with Lord Grimsby in the Great Library"

She paused, looking at the old man, and seeing in his eyes that he had no idea of where that place lay, turned and pointed behind her through the shadows toward the opening of the Grand Staircase. "Behind those stairs you'll find a hallway that leads west. Follow it all the way to the double doors at its end …"

"Marete … I could show him!" the younger woman interrupted in a most uncharacteristic fashion, excited at the prospect that she might actually get to see the Prince again, and maybe learn more of whatever it was that had been going on since that morning with the Princess.

A look of annoyance in her eyes, the older maid glanced over to her companion, then stared back at old Hans, trying to determine if the sailor seemed like he might be any sort of threat to the young maiden upon whom the better part of half, though not necessarily the _best part_ of that half, of the palace staff … had designs.

Of course, it was a natural consequence of that fact, that a good part of the _other _half of the palace staff had it _in_ for her. Few girls were as blessed as she was, but to look at and listen to the girl, one wouldn't have guessed she felt so, or even realized how much attention she often attracted; and if so, she never acknowledged it. It was a trait she seemed to have much in common with Prince Eric's future bride to be.

Some girls _were_ so blessed and simply took it for granted, like it was their _right_, or as in Gertrud's case, they were simply oblivious to their own good fortune. It was always a challenge for Marete to not resent the girl or others like her for that, the Princess included, but honestly, she tried. Some days, she was just better controlling her baser instincts than others.

"Very well, as you wish _Gertrud_. I'll check on the Princess's bath, but I want you back at her chambers as soon as you finish showing your friend to the Library. Am I _understood_?"

The younger girl nodded. "Yes Marete, I'll be quick about it! She was still sleeping when I last saw her."

With a final look, the elder maid stepped past Hans. The old man acknowledged her with slight nod of his head and bow, watching her exit the hall.

"This way Master Hans!" the young women offered, her pretty voice drawing his eyes back to her.

As Hans turned, he was greeted by the young maid's smiling face, her eyes bright in the tepid light that filled that part of the chamber. Taking his hand into hers, she tugged, drawing him along.

"So, Master Hans, I haven't seen you in _months upon months_. I heard from papa that you were taking ship with him to America but only just spoke to him again this morning when _Lyn_ returned." Her voice trailed off, as her already soft grip loosened slightly about his hand. "He didn't seem to have much time today for much more than a hug and a kiss." she added, an unmistakable sadness easy for the old man to discern.

It was Hans' turn now to hold Elise's hand, wrapping hers up in his old strong fingers as he caught her up. "Well, lass, I'm a sure he'll be makin' it up ta' ya'. Jus' a lot ta' do getting' Lyn a' ready fer th' 'morrow." The old man offered, in a reassuring and affectionate tone as he gently squeezed the girl's soft hand. While he had instantly recognized the lass, it still amazed Hans how much lovelier a woman she had grown into since he had last seen her in København several years ago.

"So _Hans_," she offered, her voice now grown bright and happy again. "Are you going to tell me about your voyage to Boston with my father or am I to be left _guessing_?" The young woman paused, looking over at the old sailor with a breathtaking smile. "Or should I call you _'Uncle Hans'_ like I did when I was a little girl … then you'll tell me everything?" she giggled.

* * *

For the first time in years, Eric found himself struck speechless by the words of his old friend and mentor. Two forces had unexpectedly come into violent collision in his soul, the first being his instinctive _trust_ of the man, the second being the deep sense of _justice_ that very man had instilled in him from a young age.

Like two voices in a debate they did battle, each counseling a different course of action. Eric sat looking up at Aubrey Beauclerk, the man who had raised him and the truest father he had ever known, as those clashing sensibilities struggled with one another in his heart. His tired mind raced as he felt his headache swiftly returning.

Was he to follow the counsel given to protect Ariel against the possible return of that _man_, to let Aubrey's assassin proceed with his mission; or was he to use a _just_ force, to see that the Doctor was captured but otherwise unharmed so that he could be interrogated, and if need be, tried, and only then punished?

In the former case Ariel would be safe as the immediate threat, _Østerby himself_, would have been ended. What, though, if that threat extended _beyond_ just the Physician? They might never know its true scope until it was too late, when some associated danger arose anew which they might not be able to recognize, against which they might not be able to defend her, or _themselves_ for that matter. In the latter case, the Physician would remain alive, his strange powers of influence alone a threat not just to his captors as he had _already_ demonstrated, but _certainly_ to _Ariel_.

Sankt Croix was, after all, a small island, one whose government and laws remained in contest between Governor's House, the Privy Council, and the Christiansborg. Despite their best efforts since their arrival, despite Eric's nominal rule, Eric and Aubrey recognized that the true seat of power of the Isles remained in nearby Christiansted. If Østerby were found, it would be _there_ to which he would be brought, for both questioning and judgment. That town being just a mile or so away, it seemed too close to Ariel for the prince's comfort, and if the man were to be _tried_ … then she might have to _face him_ once again.

Christian lowered his head into his right hand as he considered again why _he_ had been sent here, to this agreeable but far flung outpost of Danish civilization by his cousin Frederick, while his sisters and brother had remained in København.

There was also a second question that ate at Eric's conscience. Was he merely _Eric_, the young man who had slain the Witch, whose greatest responsibility was to cherish and protect the young woman of whom he had dreamt all of his life; or was he _Christian_, Prince of Denmark and Norway, whose highest duty was to those countries, his people, and to a _just_ rule? Weren't the two one and the same?

"Aaron." he said in a quiet voice. "Would you please give us a moment?"

The eyes of both Aubrey Beauclerk and Aaron Gray had been fixed upon the young prince, the former's retaining an air of moral indignation and the latter's a look of deep concern. It took a second for Gray to respond to the young Prince's words. As politely phrased as they had been, they had not been a request, and Aaron understood this implicitly. One reality of serving in the household of Prince Christian, even as his friend and advisor, was that not all discussions and decisions were meant for his ears. That was well enough, for although few, the officer kept some secrets of his own.

"Yes, of course, Christian." the young officer replied, nodding to both Beauclerk and Eric as he stepped away and across the carpet. With hardly a sound he disappeared down the aisle that led off between the tables and bookshelves to the tall twin mahogany doors. In the distance, out of sight of either of two men, a distinct click could be heard as the doors closed and latched behind him.

Grimsby drew upon his pipe as he stood there, looking at the young prince seated before him.

His head still caught in his hands, Eric was the first to speak. "Grim, call him back, _Van Dyke_. I'll not allow a man to be murdered in cold blood in my name; not for me, not even for _Ariel_."

Old Grimsby stood quietly for a moment, contemplating the words that he had known must certainly come once Eric had dismissed his friend from their presence. His concern at the young Prince's obvious state of discomfort vied with the foreboding he felt for their princess as he sought to discern the future. As he did so, he recalled the other times he had taken up the velvet glove in defense of his Prince, of his father, of Denmark … of _Sophia_; times of which Eric would never know.

His mind returned to the raids, when he had been too self-absorbed to realize what was happening in the weeks before, when the Peace of Amiens had left such a dangerous surfeit of privateers adrift in search of riches.

"Eric, please, be reasonable. We have no idea of what he intends. Surely though you must see that it likely encompasses harm to _her_? My _God_, he's _already_ hurt her!" Leaning over towards the young man, the old Parliamentarian sought to drive his point deeper.

"She is to be your _Princess,_ and soon enough, your _Queen_. Within her lies the hope not just of Denmark and Norway, but for the rekindling of relations between two peoples sundered perhaps … for _millennia__." _He let the finally word linger._ "Can_ we afford to put all of that at _risk_,to put_ her _… at _risk_? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Think of _her_, Eric, and spare no caution on her behalf, I beg you."

"I _am_ thinking of _her,_ Grim. I'm thinking of how she would feel if she learned a man had been murdered in _her_ name." Eric remained seated, head still in hands. "You _know_ how gentle she is Grim, how _sweet_, how _caring_. You told me so once _yourself_, remember? Right before I decided to ask her to be my wife."

He sighed, his palms moving in tight circles at his temples, the headache having only grown worse with the argument. He ignored it though, the pain. The last thing that he was going to do now in this sort of fight … was show _weakness_. "How do you think she would _react_, react to me doing _that_? My guess is that she couldn't live with it, that it would destroy her trust in us – in _me_, her faith in me, knowing that I had let that happen."

"You showed no such compunctions when you drove a bowsprit through that thing that was trying to take her, my boy." the old Lord replied, continuing to draw slowly on his pipe. "How is this any _different_?"

"_Take _her? It was trying to _kill_ her Grim, maybe something even worse. I don't _know _what." The prince paused, looking up at Beauclerk for the first time in minutes with pained eyes. "We don't know what that man had in mind, but if he had wanted to _kill_ her then he could have done so while we were downstairs. There would have been nothing any of us could have done about it, not you, not Aaron, and not me."

Putting his hands to his knees, Eric stood and walked slowly over to the old man, placing his hand on his mentor's right shoulder. "You're right, Grim; he wanted _something_, her blood maybe as you said, but not to _kill_ her. Maybe he didn't even want to _hurt_ her." he added, a sudden look of doubt crossing his face, as though he was questioning himself and his own words.

A look of near astonishment spread across the old man's face as he considered the Prince's observation, and more importantly, the surprising depth and calmness of his young charge's reflection on the situation. In that moment, Beauclerk saw manifested Sophia's quiet wisdom in her son, alongside the equally quiet determination of the boy's cousin, the Crown Prince and Regent. These moments, when _Prince Christian_ rather than merely _Eric_ shone forth, they never failed to stir a deep and fatherly pride in the old Lord. It was as though he was being given a glimpse of a future that he would no doubt, never live to see, being well aware that he was living on borrowed time.

He didn't miss the boy's look of hesitation that ensued either, and seeing an opening, seized the moment to take advantage of it. "Why, my young fellow, do you suggest _that_? From what the good Captain said, you seemed quite eager to plant the Doctor's face into the floorboards of the Princess's chambers."

Eric seemed taken aback by this, the blood draining from his face and his eyes growing wide, distant.

"I … I don't remember it very well Grim. It still all seems like a _dream_ to me. I just remember that I felt, that something in me told me that he was going to hurt her, something in the way he was … holding her, looking at her. She looked so … helpless, broken. I had never … seen her like that before, not even this morning."

"_Hurt _her my boy? Might I point out the confusion in your thoughts?" Grimsby asked. "You've just now finished saying that you thought he _didn't _want to hurt our little mermaid."

"Not _that_ kind of _hurt_, Grim."

The old Lord blanched, struck silent as he finally recognized his young charge's meaning. "Sur … surely Eric …" he stammered, his pipe held frozen in his motionless right hand, "… he wouldn't have dared done such a thing right there in her chambers."

"I don't know. If he'd been given enough time …? As I said, that part of it … seems like a dream … like a _nightmare_." the prince replied, lowering his head to his right hand again.

"Eric, you should have something to drink, a glass of iced water perhaps?" the old man suggested softly, his concern for his young charge vying with his convictions for his attention. "Perhaps that would help with the discomfort?"

"_Later _Grim, I still have a lot to do today between tracking down Østerby, making sure Ariel is kept as far away from him as possible, and getting Lyn ready for tomorrow. I haven't even managed to ask how all of the other preparations have been coming along."

"The preparations are coming along well enough Eric that you need not concern yourself with them. All is proceeding apace as we had planned, save perhaps for _Lightning_ herself. Let's not lose our focus though on what matters the most, eh?"

Eric looked up at the old Lord, his teacher and confidant, comforted by the older man's tone, reassuring and confident, and one that had stilled the boy's fears many, many times before.

"Please, hear me out my boy? Give me one last opportunity to convince you that my course is the best one?"

"Grim, she would _hate_ me if she found out."

"She _won't_."

"What matters is that she would _if she did_." He paused, looking down at the table. "And besides, I can't keep anything from her, I'm awful at it. I just … love her too much, Grim." Then, raising his eyes back to Beauclerk, he smiled. "When she looks at me with those eyes, it just makes me want to pour my heart into her, to tell her everything I've ever known, everything I've ever felt." he added wistfully, continuing to smile, imagining for that moment that he was back with her, and not here in this argument.

"Eric, despite your surety in the matter, this only bolsters my case." Beauclerk paused, taking a long draw upon his pipe again as he threw his gaze off to the western windows through which sunlight continued to bathe the tiled floor and accouterments of the library beneath and about them.

"From your very own admission you offer that you feel the man is nothing less than a threat to not just the virtue and possibly _life_ of your _fiancée_, but to that of a _Princess_ in her own right, the beloved daughter of a king who would prove a foe most implacable, if ever _he_ were to be angered." The old man paused, taking a short draw upon his pipe, then pointed its stem at Eric before the young man could speak, signaling that he wasn't done with his thought.

"Shall I remind you of your oath, Eric, your oath to her father? Surely, you've not forgotten it, have you? Even without _that_ to consider, the very thought of this abomination taking _by force,_ a _princess_ and no less than perhaps your future _Queen,_ is nothing less than _treason_. Remind me, what is the penalty for _that? Is it_ not _death_? You might ask your aunt's good fellow _Struensee_ about that if you entertain any doubts."

Eric's eyes widened in shock that Beauclerk had brought the scandalous matter up. _"He had a trial."_ the prince replied in a soft voice, not wanting to chase the old man's lurid hare down its unseemly path.

"And a _beheading_." Beauclerk retorted.

"Grim, where are you _going_ with this!?" Eric shot back, his eyebrows furrowing his jaw set in frustration. There was so much more to it than _that_, and Grim _knew_ it. "Her father … this isn't about him, why are you bringing _him_ into it?"

"Because _he_ has a right to know that his _youngest daughter_ is in peril because _you_ refuse to put an end to the man who _threatens_ her." the old Lord replied, his gaze still directed towards the sea. "Were Ariel _your_ daughter, would you not wish to know if she were in _danger_?"

"Grim, my promise is between me and her father, not _you_. He trusts me, and believe me, I'm not about to risk losing that trust." Eric paused for a moment, watching his mentor silhouetted against the light of the westering sun. "I'll warn him about _Østerby _tomorrow morning." he continued, his voice notably softer, his words less strident.

"Oath my boy, not a _promise_, an _oath!_" He took a draw on his pipe, inhaling deeply as he considered his next words, then, noting the silence that lingered in the room, continued. "As a father myself, I should say I _certainly_ would, wished to be warned. To answer your first question though, I am going where I _always _go Eric, when you choose to _not _heed my advice, along that very course with which you are by now well acquainted, the one that ensures at the very least, that you have given due consideration to the facts and alternatives before you choose an unwise course of action."

"I'll warn him about _Østerby _tomorrow morning." the young man repeated, an air of firm determination now clear in his voice.

"I must say, I do rather _enjoy_ our consultations, though … I would much prefer it if they came _after _dawn." The old Lord stood there silently still looking out the windows down to the shoreline and the sea as a wry smile slipped across his lips. "A pity he always speaks _English_, though it _does _make me wonder at how he came to speak it so _perfectly_, even more so I think than his daughter. Rather strange, wouldn't you say, given that legendary hatred of humanity of his that he should have so mastered a _human_ tongue? And why English, I wonder? Does he speak others?"

The prince stood there silently, having made up his mind. Eric chose to let his silence speak his choice, a technique Aubrey Beauclerk himself had long ago taught him.

"Eric, I can see that I'll not _dissuade _you in your course; to whit, I'll see that my man is recalled, but before I do so, allow me one last entreaty."

Eric nodded, looking up at the old man, more out of respect than any chance that he would alter his decision.

"When we first arrived and I counseled restraint and caution, you insisted upon pressing your case with the Governor and his Privy Council. Like your _mother_, you have a tendency to idealism when a sense of the _real_ and _possible_ is required." The old Lord paused. "So then, may I ask _Eric_, are the Jomfruøerne _free_? Has the scourge of slavery been banished, or even stayed? That _was your_ _commission_ was it _not_, to extend the King's Writ, to continue the abolition your aunt's paramour had begun?

The young Prince's eyes fell to the table beside them, seeking something upon which to alight rather than the intense gaze of his principal minister. _"No."_ he whispered softly as he reached out to the book that lay open beneath him.

"Then might I remind you that youthful idealism and revolution will often fail where a more considered and enduring approach might bear fruit? Likewise, I offer the counsel of many, many years, with the promise that such threats as this man Østerby seems to present are best dealt with _quietly_ … and _decisively_, lest they arise again. Our situation here in the Isles is precarious enough as it is. The very last thing we need adding to that tension is this strange interloper and whatever nefarious purpose that attends him."

Once again, the old Lord paused to take a draw upon his pipe, letting the smoke linger in his lungs, letting the gentle caress of the nicotiana tabacum calm him, while considering his words well before he at last exhaled.

"That _man_, is like _nothing else_ I have ever _known_, a _sorcerer _Eric, a magus dark and malign if ever I have encountered one, and I never imagined that I would. You must realize, the Good Book _itself _is _explicit_ in dealing with such matters, _explicit_, if you are to consider the authority of the _Highest_, that is."

The old Parliamentarian paused, letting his words sink in as he searched the countenance of the young prince hopefully for signs that he was getting through to the boy, and past his well-intentioned but naïve and moralistic instincts.

Still caught up in thought, Eric stood there, motionless, his fingertips playing at the gilded edges of the broad and thick tome below, edges that felt strangely of cool metal rather than of bare paper. As he did so, his eyes alighted upon a verse that seemed to stand out to him apart from all others, a short psalm whose words he had memorized when he had been very little, when he had felt very alone and sad, and no one remained to care. Well, almost no one, he smiled. How strange it was that he remembered now when he had done so, and _who _had helped him when it had proven so difficult. The prince's hand went to his eyes, whisking away the wetness that threatened there.

Yards away beneath the western windows, a grandfather clock ticked away the remaining daylight as the sun continued to illuminate the library and its many open spaces. Out on the quay and dock, work would be proceeding, work that he should have long ago rejoined. He needed to speak to Henrik, soon, to try to begin putting to rest the now lesser matter of his little mermaid's acceptance with his friends and people.

It occurred to him that something like the very blasphemy for which Grim was willing to see Østerby slain was the very thing that stirred Henrik's ire against Ariel, the very thing that he and those who stood surely but invisibly behind him … feared. The young prince considered the irony of the two juxtaposed sins, the former apparently all too real, and the latter definitely all too imagined.

"The Bible is _explicit_ about a lot of sins Grim; it's also explicit about _faith _and_ justice_. I'll not let a man who hasn't been convicted of a crime be murdered or put to death. If he makes the mistake of coming for her again, though, _I'll be ready for him_."

With those words Eric looked up from the table, straight into Aubrey's eyes. "And while we're on the topic of "_aunts_" … why don't you ask the _Witch _how trying to take Ariel away from me worked out for _her_?"

A silence followed.

Now, it was Eric's turn to pause dramatically for effect, having growing tired of his old mentor's rhetorical theater and seeing an opportunity to turn the tables back on him. "… but I think you already covered that … didn't you, Grim?"

* * *

As Lieutenant Gray drew the doors to a close behind him, he found himself considering once again Eric's custom of knocking politely before entering into the presence of others. While Lord Grimsby and Carlotta Grimaldi remained foremost in receipt of that honor, it was a habit the young man had extended to many others, Governor Mühlenfels and the men of the Guard included of course, but notably not Jørgensen and the other members of the Privy Council who in the past had caused him such grief.

Such courtesies on the part of the younger man had always struck the Captain as odd and egalitarian in an almost revolutionary, indeed even American, way. That Eric, a prince, should pause to knock at the one of the inner doors of his own palace before entering the chamber beyond seemed nothing less than remarkable. Eric, though, had been raised by Aubrey Beauclerk and the Carlotta Grimaldi with many sensibilities more akin to those of a common man than of an entitled prince. As a result, the young fellow was polite, courteous to all, and dismissive of no man, especially those he knew and for whom he cared.

One day, Gray thought, even though Eric dismissed even the possibility of it, he might become a king the likes of whom the Danes had never before seen. And then, if he married Princess Ariel, what mere words could describe how fair and caring a queen _she_ might become, and what wonders might arise from their union? The possibilities made him proud of his Danish heritage, of his mother, as much as his father had of England. As he had written in his recent dispatches back to Washington, such a union between a human prince and a meran princess, offered the dawn of a new world. Like the Sea King and Aubrey Beauclerk though, Aaron retained quiet concerns.

To his surprise, the officer found two of his men, Beck and Brandt now standing watch outside the library. It shouldn't have been a surprise at all.

"_Damn."_ Gray silently kicked himself for having neglected the two when he and Eric had torn out of the Guest Library for the Princess's apartments, and later when he had accompanied the young prince to the Great Library to find Aubrey. It was unprofessional, not to mention _inconsiderate and ungentlemanly_ of him.

"Private Beck, Private Brandt." he began in Danish in a low voice, "what brings you here?"

Brandt replied first. "Lor' Grimsby, Captain. We followed after 'im when he went up the stairs, then after 'e came out 'e had us go report t' Sergeant Lundgren as t' wha' had gone on. Once we was done with that, Ed, Private Beck I mean, well 'e thought it would be a good idea to track Lor' Grimsby back down ag'in, an' th' Sergeant, he agreed." he concluded, looking momentarily at the other soldier.

Catching his comrade's sidelong glance Beck looked back before once again caging his eyes forward and nodding. "Yes sir, that's right. Just as Private Brandt said."

Gray couldn't help but be impressed at the pair's initiative. Privates weren't know for such quick thinking or proactive attitudes. These two, along with Lund and Thomsen, might have the makings of Corporals, given their propensity to think and take the lead when left to their own devices. Soon, promotions or not, he owed these two and the others a suitable recognition and a good reward for their dedication.

"Well done, the both of you. I'll let the Prince know, he'll be proud to hear that you did." He paused for an instant, watching the men's eyes. Both seemed to be suppressing sly smirks. All right. Given that they sparred with the young Prince practically every morning of the week, perhaps having a mention to Eric himself wasn't something especially unusual, not that this was a surprise to the Captain. "I'll let Sergeant Lundgren know too." the officer added.

Both men couldn't help but try and fail to suppress their ensuing smiles. The _Ogre of Christiansborg_ was hardly a man to be trifled with, especially given that he was their leading Sergeant, but like most of the eponymous monsters of myth, he had great _treasures_ to offer in reward for a job well done, as well as _torments_ for one poorly executed. Anything that put them on his good side was thus, a blessing.

Seeing that he had finally gotten through to the two, it was the Captain's turn to smile. After that, the two young soldiers gathered their mirth and stowed it away, caging their eyes forward once again, as though the young officer was hardly there at all.

The hallway and Foyer once again fell silent.

* * *

"Well, we can't have you a stranger, getting lost in the Prince's House can we, _Uncle_?" the young maid giggled as she passed between and through the spirals of the elegant white marble stairs. The fingers of her left hand glided across a dark marble rail as she did so, her right caught in Hans', with the man trailing immediately behind her. As the pair passed beneath the Grand Stair, the girl once again felt her awe at the place, at its vastness, at its ornate and elegant beauty; it was all still so overwhelming to her.

She was always _quiet _in the West Wing, respectful of the Prince's apartments, their dignity, their privacy as well as that of the Prince and Lord Grimsby. The latter, quite frankly, frightened her quite a bit. She didn't really know why, other than that the other members of the staff seemed to regard him as somewhat severe and aloof, even imperious, and thus went about him with a degree of trepidation. Unlike Mistress Carlotta, there was a distinct sense of distance about him that the even the Prince didn't carry.

"_Eric. __Prince__ Eric." _Gertrude Elise silently corrected herself, smiling softly but contemplating that title in a sad, even somewhat despondent thought. It wasn't that he was an uncommon sight in the palace or at all unapproachable, though that had changed a bit given how preoccupied with the Princess he had become since her arrival. No, it was simply that being a young woman, Elise deeply enjoyed being around him, hearing his voice, enjoying his boyish humor and charm, and, well … just _appreciating_ him.

Even though he was forever beyond her reach, even though he was now obviously deeply connected with their young princess, _a mermaid _no less, there was no harm in a girl _dreaming_, was there? After all, even Carlotta had insisted there was a young man out there waiting for _her_ too. Even if that young man wasn't a prince, maybe he would be like _Eric_. _"Something like Eric, at least." _she thought.

As he walked alongside the young maid, Hans let his gaze follow the long hallway out to its distant end, hidden in the deep shadows of the afternoon. This being the lowest level of the floors and attics above ground, no windows looked directly in upon that space, save half way down its length where the light from the ends of a crossing hallway filled the air. Instead, each side of this hallway was illuminated by a row of finely fashioned brazen oil lamps, one of which adorned either wall of the passage every ten feet or so.

Hans could only imagine the expense of keeping those lanterns lit. For a moment, the old sea dog found himself reflecting back upon his whaling days, wondering how their gentle mermaid might react if ever she discovered what exactly_ kept_ them alight. Did her folk also treat the great denizens of the deep with such horrific cruelty? Their burning filled the air with a faint fragrance, not unpleasant at all, the mark of a high quality train oil, most likely spermaceti, though he couldn't place it. Perhaps it was scented.

"It's a pretty house th' young Prince has fer 'imself." Hans commented, having grown uncomfortable at the girl's sudden silence and wondering if she was afraid for some reason, though her hand, still held fast in his, betrayed no such fear.

The young woman looked back at him, smiling softly and nodded. Hans wondered if perhaps little Elise felt the same trepidation he did in such grand places, if even the daughter of a Captain of the Søværnet and gentle extraction felt that such places weren't for such as herself. Hans thought it an interesting and modest sentiment for such a lovely young woman to have if it were the case. _"Someday,"_ he thought _"she'll make some fella' a fine wife … an' an e'en better friend." _

Strangely, he found his heart hurting; hurting at the realization of how he had never been blessed with a son-in-law, let alone a son of his own to carry forth the remains of his life. His hopes for both had been torn from him all too soon, all too suddenly. Eric was the closest to a son Hans had ever had. Old knobs of fingers turned and twisted the soft weathered cap into a knot in his free hand.

Down the hallway they continued. Letting the girl's silence persist, Hans felt guilty at letting his rude work boots trod upon so rich and beautiful a carpet. _"Such a fine color._" he thought, never having before seen a purple that intense and pure in such abundance, such softness. It was a color echoed in the Prince's royal coat of arms, his crest, and sometimes in his monogram.

On either side of that long rich, carpet that stretched out before them could be seen peeking out, parquet floors of diagonal interlocking crosses and squares. Into the walls every ten feet were recessed shallow alcoves, and in each of these sat upon marble pedestals the shadowed busts of men both young and old. Not a single man did Hans recognize … save one. He wondered who the others might be, surmising that they must also have been great men of Christian's line.

The quiet and darker confines of the long hall left him ill at ease. The atmosphere here was so unlike the bright and airy nature of the East Wing and the Princess's bedchamber. Still, it was beautiful. Perhaps it was a matter of it being so low in the House with all of the doors to the outer rooms closed. The old man wondered at the opulence of it all, and mused that despite his wealth and station, aboard ship, Eric was impossible to tell from any of his subjects, save for his more eloquent and refined speech, and the fact that in most matters, Eric was far more decent – and often naïve – than most sailors.

With his and Elise's passing, the flames of the lamps wavered and flickered slightly. Finally, not being a man to withhold a good quip, and feeling oppressed by the utter silence, Hans could take no more. "So, Elise, pardon an ol' fella' breakin' the sulk o' this place, but is it always so still, and while I'm a askin' why do they call it th' _Great_ Library anyhow?"

The young woman looked back and smiled, her eyes seeming to glisten even in the sparing light. "Would you believe that I asked the _very same question_ before I first saw it Hans!?" she smiled, relieved that her friend had broken the lingering quiet of the hallway.

"Mistress Carlotta told me that when Prince Frederick had the Christiansborg built, he wanted a Library to rival that of _Alexandria_, to be _the greatest in all of the Caribbean_, maybe in all of the _Americas_." the young maid said wistfully, her voice rising to emphasize her latter words.

She paused and smiled, her eyes lost for a moment in thought, as she continued walking toward the end of the hallway. "I guess it turned out to be a rather expensive plan, a folly within a folly." she added, a hint of something like mirth becoming sadness in her voice.

"It ain't _finished_ then?" the old sailor added, having heard of Alexandria as had most seafaring men, if for no other reason than Nelson's great victory in Battle of the Nile that had been fought nearby not too many years ago, but wondering what was so special about its _library_. Out of embarrassment at his ignorance compared to the young woman, he didn't want to admit that he had never even _heard_ of the place.

"Oh, _yes_, it is, you'll see it in just a moment! It's _magnificent_, even if it's not quite its namesake." the girl giggled. "From what the Mistress told me, most of the Prince's plans came to a sudden end after he was deposed as Regent."

"Ah, I'm _impressed_!" Hans smiled, looking admiring at the little girl he used to read to, his literacy being a particular matter of pride for the old sailor, along with his uncommon ability to swim. "Ya' got a fine mind fer such things, Elise. I always though ya' was a clever lass, yer nose always in a book.'

"Oh, I'm _interested_ in things like that. I've always liked history and architecture." she smiled as she shifted her hand to Hans' lower arm.

From the hallway behind them, Hans, heard a low whining yelp, and the unexpected sound made the old man jump and turn. Beside him, Elise squealed in fright, her right hand going to her breast as she spun about, just as startled as her companion. While it took him but a second to recognize who had made the noise, the sound still surprised old Hans, for he had thought himself and Elise alone in the hallway.

"_Max!"_ he said in a low voice that was lost in the depths of the long hallway. "Well, hello, wha' be ye' doin' 'ere?"

"_Max?"_ the girl asked, letting her voice trail off as Hans spoke to the dog. "Why is he _here_?" she asked, a feeling of unease growing in her soul. The dog should be with Carlotta and the Princess.

As if in reply, the sheepdog sidled up to the old man and young woman, who in turn out of long habit each knelt to offer an affectionate scratch. After taking a moment to ensure he had their attention, Max let out another low whine, the exact sort he used to tell the master and his friends he was upset, needed help, or sometimes just love.

The dog shot off down the hallway, stopping and looking back at the Old Ship Man and Girl with Flowers, beckoning them to follow with a single blue eye peeking out from beneath his shaggy bangs. Then off he went, toward the far end of the hallway, where the Master was.

Hans' face grew even more clouded with concern, wondering what had upset the dog so. From many years at sea with Eric and _Najaden_'s unofficial mascot, Hans knew now that something must be wrong. He looked to Elise, and found her pretty eyes also clouded with worry.

"Hans, what is it? Why is he _here_? He should be with the _Princess_, with Carlotta."

Pressing himself upward on his knees, the sailor offered his hand to the girl beside him, this time taking her hand into his and drawing _her_ along with him toward the far doors. He picked up his pace after the sheepdog. "I don' rightly know. Come along lass. Ye'r right, somethin's _amiss_."

In the distance near the hallway's far end, the sailor could just descry a figure standing beneath the lamps before two large mahogany doors. Beyond him stood two other men in the Household livery. Hans had seen them before, guarding the small library on the far side of the palace, the library two floors below the Princess's bedchamber.

Max, of course, had long known that it was the Bright Man, not just by scent, but because of how he could feel his presence, just like Eric's … but _stronger_. The other men he knew as well, two of Eric's pack, ones with whom the Prince played in the sand, sea, and woods.

* * *

Aaron could hear nothing of the conversation that must be taking place from beyond the twin doors, and as long as he waited before them, no one _else_ would either. There seemed little point in standing though, certainly not pacing, and the officer had long become familiar with the adornments in the hallway outside the Great Library. They held no new interest for him.

He couldn't bring himself to sit. It wouldn't have been right with his men having to stand there. Thus his mind returned to the day's events, those tasks still needing attention. Now, the mere matter of securing Princess Ariel's first birthday as a human, both on land and at sea, had unexpectedly become a distant second concern. Instead, there was the matter of this Physician, _Østerby_.

How had he gained his father's position so_ quickly_? Gray remembered what old Hans had told him of the man's reputation among the island's sailors as an opportunist, or _worse_, but now that description seemed to pale in comparison to the new revelations old Aubrey had just now presented to Eric and him.

Had it simply been assumed that the son would suffice in his father's place? If so, why, and by whom? _Aubrey?_ Why had he not been consulted, especially given his Captaincy of the Prince's bodyguard? Had consideration even been given to the man's reputation and skill from his practice since he had arrived? Both were questions to be asked of Aubrey Beauclerk when time and circumstances permitted. For the moment though, the matter at hand was dealing with the man.

In the distance, from somewhere towards the far end of the Hallway, Aaron could hear the soft words and low sounds of a quiet conversation between two people. As the pair passed the mid of the hallway, their words became confused but the officer was at last able to distinguish the voice of a man, and soon after, who that man was. The other voice was a young woman's. Her very pretty lilting voice and by her words and speech, obviously Danish origin, quickly became apparent, as did the increasing worry in her voice.

What caught his attention the most, however, what made him stand up straight in alarm, was the sound of a third visitor. It was the low, sad whine of a dog, and there was only one dog whose voice that could be. Aaron knew it well, new _him_ well, having heard Max in every conceivable setting and in every conceivable mood over the past three years.

Aside from when Eric was working, and now increasingly when he was with his young fiancée, the prince and his sheepdog were _rarely _found apart. What caused Aaron the greatest concern, though, was that the prince had left Max to watch over that same very special young woman, and that dog was now here, right here … without her, his tail tucked, obviously alone and upset.

"_Max!"_ the officer exclaimed in a low voice, nearly a whisper, surprised that the dog had come up on him so quietly and unnoticed, realizing only then how lost in thought he must have been in the demands of the day. He also noticed how uncharacteristically quiet the dog was. Max was normally rather … boisterous, especially around Eric or even more so, the Princess.

"_Hello boy, what brings you here?__" __Are you looking for Eric?"_ he asked. Gray reached out to greet the animal, brushing back the soft white fur on the dog's head to reveal a pair of light blue eyes.

"_Good heavens Max, there's a __dog__ under this mess of hair!" _the officer chuckled. _"I had no idea, had you? However do see from underneath all of that?" _he continued in a soft voice.

Max gave the man an affectionate lick, appreciating the vigorous neck rub that followed in reply. For neck rubs, after all, Eric and his male pack members were usually best, but nothing compared the scratches the Girl from the Sea and the Girl with Flowers gave. Once again, the dog had alerted the man before him with a low, quiet whine, tucking his tail to let the man know that something was wrong, that the Girl from the Sea needed _help_.

"That's a good fellow. I can't assume you've come here looking for _me_, have you?" he said, suppressing his concern. "I hope not at least. If you're looking for Eric, he's behind me in the library with old Grimsby." the officer said, as he weighed the necessity of interrupting the Prince and his Minister and mentor. Such things weren't to be done lightly, but given the implications of the dog's presence …

"Tha' I reckon 'e is." offered a soft but harsh voice from down the hallway from where the dog had come. Gray knew instantly whose it was, having expected him from little more than a minute ago.

As Gray looked up he saw the old salt coming toward him out of the dim reach of the hallway, holding the hand of a rather astonishingly attractive young maid. It took only a moment for the officer a moment to recognize her too, for he had personally vetted the girl's application to work in the Princes Household but a year ago and most recently the Princess's retinue.

"Hans … _Miss Larsen_." he said, smiling for a moment at the old fellow and his young companion.

At the Captain's address, Elise found herself both smiling and blushing. "Just a _maid_, sir." she offered in excellent and only slightly accented English.

"Not exactly _just_ a maid, my dear." The officer followed Hans' and the girl's eyes down to Maximillian, who seeming content with having their attention.

"They cou' do wi' a bi' more light down this end, some windows don't ya think?" Hans asked.

"You'll have to thank Eric's father. This place was a fortress before it became a palace, this half of it, the keep, and the barbicans in any case. But yes, I've always found this hallway to be rather dim. Skylights would improve it."

"Skylights?" the girl asked looking up at the officer, her eyes lighting up as she smiled, as though to follow the man's comment as she wondered what he had meant with his words about her beforehand.

Growing impatient, Max leapt away from the officer and bounded down the hallway to the tall twin doors. Once there between the two guards, who struggled to keep their eyes straight ahead and their bodies at the position of attention, he stood up on his hind legs, dropped his front two paws against the doors, and began to paw and scratch at them, looking back at the two men with another pathetic cry, then barked at the top of his lungs.

"Somethin's got 'im spooked." Hans interrupted, looking back to the Captain and forestalling any further pleasantries.

The two guards looked at one another, followed shortly by the approach of the men they knew as Captain Derek Carlson and the Sailing Master of Lyn, Hans Sael.

Hans felt a soft breath from behind and looked back only to find the light blue eyes of Matthias Larsen's daughter looking slightly up at his, her expression one of curiosity and urgency combined. Once again, Hans took her hand into his own.

The officer stood and stepped to the door and was shortly thereafter joined by Sael. On his approach, the two guards stood aside and Max dropped to the floor beside Private Brandt on the right. Looking up, as though seeing through the door to those who lay beyond it, Maximillian barked, loudly this time, following it with more pathetic whining and mewling as if to underscore the urgency of his mission.

Now it was the Captain's turn to knock. He did so, a sharp rap of his knuckles twice against the door, but there was to be no delay in entry waiting for a reply. Seizing the brass seahorse that formed the handle of the right door, he twisted once clockwise and pulled. Maximillian stepped back, whining, allowing the door's swing open before slipping around it and disappearing into the long aisle and bookshelves beyond.

The Captain, Hans, and the young maid followed.

* * *

Aubrey Beauclerk stood dumbstruck at his protégé's eloquent and unexpected riposte, staring back at the young prince and blinking most ungraciously a couple of times as he considered that he himself was now the one at a loss for words. _"Good heavens!"_ he thought, _"However did the boy manage that?"_

The old Parliamentarian had to admit that this was perhaps was the most satisfying turn of his own words and themes against him that Eric had ever managed in a dozen years of debates and discussions. In his heart, Grimsby couldn't deny the warm and profound sense of loving admiration that came upon him as he realized that Eric might well … _be right_. At the very least, he saw now standing before him not a boy, but a man, a man with the mettle of a king, wielding his words and voice with wit, confidence, and power.

"_Touché, my boy."_ he offered softly, letting a small puff of smoke drift off into the bookshelves about them.

There was a special protective bond between his Eric and their little mermaid, their little _angel_, and _o_ver the past weeks, it had become increasingly evident to the old Lord that Ariel had brought out in Eric the very kingly determination and confidence that proven so elusive to him in the many years before she had entered his life.

Likewise, to him it seemed that she brought out the best qualities in all of those who encountered her in the Household. It was an almost magical quality with which she was imbued, her boundless optimism, her ineffable sweetness, her happy enthusiasm for _everyone _and _everything_ about her.

It could be no mere accident, he thought, but instead evidence of something greater, some Hand unseen but beneficent at work, that had drawn this princess of a realm unseen and unknown into their lives, just as all had seemed so increasingly hopeless to the old fellow.

"_An angel indeed."_ he mused in thought to himself.

As he reflected on these matters, Aubrey's thoughts darkened in the realization that this day had served well enough to severely injure the Princess's potential and propensity for happiness, if not to destroy the girl herself. Without a further thought, his mind returned to the task of trying to forestall her doom.

"Very well Eric, you have my counsel, and I shall do as you command." Grimsby sighed, looking down at his pipe.

Eric's narrowed brows and angry countenance softened in surprise at the old man's quiet and unexpected capitulation. In debate, Grim seldom offered such concessions. "You'll call him back then, Van Dyke?"

The old man nodded, still avoiding the prince's eyes. "Yes, but I warn you, don't become overconfident Eric. This man, this _thing_, clearly has unnatural powers … and most likely the ability to subdue all of us."

"No, not _you_ Grim, not Aaron, and not _me_ … not the next time at least." the prince replied, his voice firm and unwavering as he leaned forward, placing his clenched right fist on the books beneath him. "If there _is _a next time."

"You can't be _sure _of your ability to resist, _oh no_ … nor can _I_. Yes, certainly, I fooled him this once, and of that I am rather _proud_, if I must say so myself." the old man smiled wistfully, as though admiring a prized trophy that was nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps, though, the next time doing so will be beyond my ability. It is best to maintain one's humility in such matters." the old man continued, raising his pipe but pausing as the stem came within an inch of his lips.

"One thing that you _can_ be sure of, though my boy, is that there _will_ be a next time … I can feel it in these old bones of mine." As he finished, he shook the stem of his instrument of admonishment twice towards the prince, punctuating his point with the gesture.

The two men's quiet but tense conversation was interrupted by the not so distant but muffled bark of a dog. Both recognized its owner instantly, looking with both surprise and concern down the aisle in the direction of the Library foyer.

Having left Max at Ariel's side and knowing how much the dog cared for the girl, Eric knew he wouldn't have left her unless something was wrong,_ very wrong_. For the second time that day, Max's voice had become her alarm.

From the Library door came a loud two raps, followed by the sound of the doors opening.

"You go Eric, I'll come as soon as these old legs can bring me there." Aubrey said quietly, having reached the same conclusion he saw hovering in Eric's eyes, a small tremor of alarm tinging his voice as his mind returned to his own words from but a few moments before … and the fears they represented. The tomes that lay out before them, though, some of them he dare not leave unguarded nor held under anything less than heavy lock and key.

Turning, Eric lunged for the aisle and library doors. As he rounded the nearest bookshelves, the prince was greeted by the sight of Max, Aaron, Hans and the pretty young maid who had been attending Ariel over the past few weeks to free Carlotta as much as possible for her daily duties.

The sheepdog was on him in a second.

"Aaron!" he paused, coming to a sudden halt. "What …?"

"I can only guess Eric, he just arrived, but you left her wi …"

"… with _Ariel_. _Max, what is it!?"_ Eric cried, looking down at Max as the sheepdog leapt up and began to circle and nudge him toward the doors, whining pathetically as he did so.

"That's it, Aaron, let's go. She's in trouble!"

Before another word could be said, Eric had disappeared through the twin doors, followed closely by Max and Gray. With a brief apologetic look the officer dashed off, nodding his head at the Sailing Master of Lyn and the young maid beside him. The former stood transfixed in amazement, staring up above into the library's many tiers, while the latter curtseyed to the old Lord, turned and ran away, leaving Grimsby to face the equally aged sailor.

As the two younger men and the maiden disappeared down the long hallway, Sael turned to old Grimsby who now busied himself closing several of the volumes laid out upon the table before him.

"Aaron? Who's _Aaron_?"

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__So, what was missing in terms of length for the last chapter is more than compensated by this one!_

_Many of you know that starting this past Christmas, I published the first of what are now three chapters of __Juletrae__, a Christmas story for Ariel, and a continuation of her rather traumatic emotional journey first explored here in __Sael__. Not only that, I went a long way into the fourth chapter before deciding that it was time to return to __Sael__. I don't want to give away too much of what happens, after all! Not to worry though, I'll be continuing Juletrae as soon as I reach the proper point in Sael, and certainly in time for next year's holiday season._

_This is all a part of a larger plan, as all of my stories are intended to fit together into a continuous and consistent whole, hopefully without contradiction. I suspect in the end that will prove a harder goal to achieve than I anticipate, Juletrae became more ambitious in the telling, just like Sael. _

_Little things always slip through. If you see anything, even grammatical and other blind spots, feel free to let me know. PMs actually work best for this though it is fine in a review as well. For reviews though, I'm more interested in what you thought about the plot, characterizations, themes, and technique of the story._

_In a commentary about __Sael__, one of my closest friends noted that it seemed that "not a lot is happening," and that each installment is more like a "mini-chapter." Perhaps so. I'll admit, I thought it an interesting comment. To me, though, __Sael__ is really about looking into the hearts and personalities of the characters, especially Ariel and Eric, but also Hans, Grimsby, Carlotta, and now Carlson, Gertrude and even Max. Then there are the various soldiers of the Guard and members of the household staff. _

_Sael__ is about "what if" Ariel were greeted with virulent and realistic rejection in the beginning days of her life as a human. The action takes place mainly in how the characters think and feel, but it is also setting the stage for things to come, both within Sael and beyond as you can see with Juletrae._

_I imagine that through Ariel's eyes, what is happening to her seems like very much "a lot," as it does to Eric and everyone who loves them. Even without the good Doctor adding his strange "otherness" to the whole, this day would have been terribly traumatic. In a way, it is an examination in depth of two fateful days in Ariel's early human life, and the ebb and flow of her emotions therein, much as I wished Disney had explored for her third day as a human (which I will in __Shako__). _

_It's all about emotion, anger, fear, hope, and love. __Juletrae__ will continue to grow what __Sael__ began within its specific timeframe. As I plan it, the pacing and action will be considerably greater in both __Shako__ and __Night Comes to Ariel's Isle__. _

_Oh, and there's gonna be fluff too. Oh yeah, a lot of Ariel-y—Eric-y fluff. I promise._

* * *

_**Acknowledgments and Credits:**_

_**Cover Art:**__ The cover art is "An Old Man" by _mystic-portal _deviantart com._

_The link to the original is http: _mystic-portal deviantart com/art/An-old-man-67302497

_**Creative Contributions:**_ _I would like to mention Crisis Rose's beautiful stories "Blue," "Til Death Do Us Part," "Before the Fall," as having had an influence on a certain element in this chapter._

* * *

**_Character Images: _**If you are wondering how I envision the appearances of the other characters in this chapter, look no farther than these images (and let me know what you think):

_*** Miss Gertrude Elise Larsen * **(The daughter of a Naval Captain, not a Mayor)_

http: art/Madge-Undersee-The-Mayors-Daughter-294235143

_*** Miss Marete Abels ***_

http: rafaeldelatorre deviantart com/art/Study-I-106510598

_*** Prince Christian Frederick ("Eric"), Hereditary Prince of Denmark * **(Two aspects, but both would be blue-eyed.)_

http: selenada deviantart com/art/Commission-Rand-269315199

http: selenada deviantart com/art/Fisherman-s-Son-253253840

_*** Aubrey Beauclerk, simply Lord Grimsby * **(Hair normally worn in a queue.)_

http: xzaren deviantart com/art/Polberra-as-an-old-man-91155752

_*** Aaron Gray/Captain Derek Carlson * **(Who, by the way, is emphatically NOT a werewolf.)_

http: ecx images-amazon com/images/I/512vaMzlz0L._SX297_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg

*** Private Alf Brandt ***

http: artesworks blogspot com/2008/01/estudo-de-boca-de-alexandre-courtouke html

*** Private Edvard Beck ***

http: photovide com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Miles-Johnston5 jpg

*** Maximillian ("Max") ***_ (Kinda furry and slobbery.)_

http: fineartamerica com featured harvey-the-sheepdog-rebecca-korpita html

http: www animaatjes de/hunde-bilder/bobtail/bobtail25-262473/


	20. Chapter 18 - Pneuma

**Author's Note: **_A most appropriate day to publish this chapter. Have__ a blessed Easter everyone._

**_Publication Date:_**_ Sunday, March 27th, 2016_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 18 – _Pneuma_ **

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 4:35 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

Hurtling through the open library doors Eric noted the presence of the two guards posted there, surprised that he hadn't seen them when he and Aaron had arrived well over an hour before.

_"What! … Are you expecting another raid?"_ he cried with a glance back to Gray, who was fast catching him up.

With a sweep of his cupped right hand, Carlson signaled the two to follow. Both hefted their muskets and followed the Prince and Captain in their hard long sprint to the far side of the palace, having no idea of what threats awaited them, either there or along the way.

"Hardly, though it _would_ make an opportune time." the Captain opined, picking up his pace and drawing alongside the slightly taller and faster young man, though the sheepdog surged out ahead of both of them barking a loud alarm as he went.

_"Then why the guards?"_

_"They weren't for you … Eric. They were … for Aubrey." _Before them, they could see the twin lower landings of the Grand Stair at the far eastern end of the hallway. _ "Other … than Max … there's been … no alert, nor have I reason … or warning … to believe … that an attack might be … coming. And as for you … I'm the one … guarding you … if you haven't noticed."_

The four gained and ascended the stairs in less than a minute, exploding into the ballroom past servants and maids, all of whom quickly drew out of their way. Seldom was the prince seen with such a grim look on his face, with such urgency and determination in his eyes. It occurred to Gray that this was the _third_ dead sprint he had made that day with Eric, and each had been an unexpected and unwelcome addition to their already strenuous early morning routine.

As he ran, Eric agonized that Grimsby might have been right. _What if Østerby had returned_?

Was it the physician that had frightened Max _so_, just as he had earlier in Ariel's bedchamber? Max had been terrified therein, Eric realized. Now it made sense. _Østerby._

The prince remembered the _look_ he had seen on Nils' face as Ariel had sat there, limp and helpless in his arms. He remembered how that had made him _feel_, seeing her like that. Just the thought of it made him _livid_, the thought of that _man _touching her. Eric threw his legs out even farther with every stride as the dark tiled floors of the ballroom floor flew beneath his feet. He felt his lungs burning, his heart crashing against his chest. He wondered if he had ever run so hard or so fast before in his entire life. Only once he thought, from Carlotta, so long ago after the fire, but then, he had been just a boy, heartbroken and terrified of what the future held for him. And then, just as now, there had been the _guilt_.

No screams, no cries of fear or distress were to be heard this time. Aaron was still there charging along at his side, but all seemed to have become silent, eerily silent. Eric recognized the faces of servants and maids as he flew by them, but if they said anything at all to him, he couldn't tell. The only sound, the only voice he would entertain … was _hers_. He bent his ears, turning the whole of his consciousness, straining it upward towards her rooms above him, towards _her_ … yet heard _nothing_.

While his discomfort at the sudden exertion was subsiding, Eric felt a different ache growing in his heart. All that he could think of was that man, _hovering over her_. She hadn't even known what was happening. As he charged forward, his pounding heart and throbbing head seemed to join in synchrony. Effort added to his pain, anxiety multiplied his fear.

As Eric mounted the lower landings of the stairs, he watched Max ascending them before him, bounding upward in fluid sinuous leaps that only a four legged creature like a sheepdog could make. He marveled at how graceful and how agile Max was as he rounded the end of the balustrade sharply toward the upper landing, as he felt his own feet vaulting up steps three at a time. Eric reached out and flung himself clean around the walnut newel with a sharp jerk, then threw himself up the last flight of stairs to gain the landing to the Grand Gallery.

And then he was there, staring Jens Lund straight in the eye. Max was already slipping through the doors as Anders Thomsen hastened to throw them fully open. Jens stepped back, turning his head toward the bedchamber. Without thinking, only feeling … Eric followed. For a moment as he plunged onward, the prince was certain that he saw a clear look of distress on the soldier's face, a look that had begun to give way to another expression. Lund appeared wide awake, but sad in a helpless, even pleading way. His mouth was moving, but the meaning to the sounds the Private was making never came.

The passing of the seconds could no longer be heard, not even a single tick of the Gallery's grandfather clock. It seemed curious to Eric as he passed, how the golden bob of the clock's pendulum seemed to hang motionless in its appointed arc. Despite the deep shadows that pervaded the upper landing in the late afternoon, Eric could clearly discern upon it the royal arms of Norway and Denmark, its intricate and nested menagerie of filigreed lions, dragons, crowns, its hanging elephant, all joined to the pendulum rod by a button, a single golden button emblazoned with the stylized **_"F" _**of his father's monogram, the royal monogram his father had never been able to legitimately claim.

All else was still, silent … all save for the sound of tears and a desperate soft gasps emanating from the room beyond the open doors.

* * *

Despite the strange quiet, Eric could still _hear_. He could hear Jens trying to explain what lay beyond the threshold of Ariel's chamber. He could hear the tearful pleas of a woman he loved as a mother to the girl seated within her arms, the two sat upon the far edge of the bed. He could hear the thunderous pounding of his own heart, as though it were ready to burst within his chest. His lungs burned from their labors as he sucked in deep breath after deep breath.

Above all else though, Eric could hear the desperate, failing gasps of the young woman whom he had come to love more than life itself, and for whose safety and happiness he would give anything.

Ariel has no words that could explain what was happening to her, how it _felt_, this sudden _terror_ that had seized her … but she knew that _it _was failing, her father's power – the power of the _Trident_.

How could that _be_?

The pact into which she had entered, her bargain with the Witch, had it been too strong? In the end, she had regained her voice when she _shouldn't _have. Somehow she had broken the spell, broken the terms, but that wasn't _allowed_, was it? There had been no _kiss_, no _release_ – _not in time_. Despite his love, Eric hadn't kissed her before the sun had failed that eve, and even _had _he, having her voice restored to her _hadn't_ been a part of the pact.

_Eric …_

Had it been his _love _for her that alone had rent the terrible net in which the Ulusûlêth had bound her, had sheared the barbed hook upon which she had caught herself? Ariel shuddered and heaved, her choked sobs growing quicker and more painful, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't gain _control_ of them, couldn't gain control of her fear as she found herself growing weaker, fainter, wishing only that Eric were there.

Once again, the little mermaid could feel the fire of the philtre consuming her tail, boiling away its slender muscle and bone like wax melting off of a human candle, invading the core of her being and scalding the organs therein as her delicate lungs seethed in its eldritch flame. Ariel struggled to breathe … to breathe water, to breathe air, which ever she might … and found that she could breathe _neither_. The air itself had become alien to her, her failing body revolting at each desperate shallow breath. Every gasp, every gulp she took, seared her lungs, until she found that she could no longer hold any of them, for her ruined lungs expelled them faster than she could draw them in.

To the Prince, fractions of a second seemed to stretch out into small, segmented eternities as he crossed the room to them, to _her_. He heard Zeno himself, laughing at him from beyond his ancient grave across the millennia. _To_ _her_. He had to get _to her_. It was as if a strange nightmare had him in its grasp, the sort of nightmare where one runs and runs and runs, but never draws closer to that to which one is running, nor farther from that from which one is fleeing.

Carlotta had been careful not to let the girl go, had tried her best to hold her as closely as she could to her own heart, but the Princess's wracking sobs were only growing worse, broken by increasingly rapid gasps for air that took on ever more continuous and fearful tones.

To the former mermaid's tears, Carlotta Grimaldi added her own.

Ariel's ragged breaths came like something between stifled wails and choked screams. Her chest ached and burned so terribly that she could no longer bear it, just as her forefinger had when she had first touched a candle's flame, but worse … _so much worse_. She had no choice however, surrender did her no good; despite it, the pain continued to mount, her breaths continued to shorten, to quicken, all to no avail. She felt herself too lightheaded to think, beginning to pass into some other realm of suffering.

_"Honey, Ariel! Sweetheart, calm down! You have to calm down!"_ Carlotta cried in desperation, the tears now flowing freely from her own eyes as she rocked the girl back and forth, trying to soothe her in the way that she always had, with gentle caresses of her back and arms.

This time though … it wasn't working.

Ariel's hands and feet clenched, jerked, and shook with spasms of blinding, shooting pain; her diminutive heart crashed in her breast; her chest felt like it was going to split asunder, to explode. But she couldn't scream, she could only gasp … gasp for air, gasp … but not hold it inside her lungs.

_… what remained of them. _

With the last two words of her plea to the girl, Carlotta felt a warm pair of arms wrap around her followed by Eric's voice in her ear and a soft wet peck at her temple. She couldn't be sure of what the boy had said to her, but could only watch as he as he sat on the bed beside them then drew Ariel away from her and into his own embrace.

The girl's frantic, incessant attempts to breathe increased as she thrashed against Eric's grasp, her head now held high and thrown back, her long mane caught between crimson and scarlet dangling down her back, her deep blue eyes wide with terror and panic. Whatever it was that had seized Ariel earlier that day, this wasn't it. This was some different terror, and Eric didn't know what to do.

"Eric! … _Voss."_

Eric looked about, only part of his mind having understood Gray's words until he met the man's eyes with his own. Then he remembered.

His eyes cast about the room for something, anything of the sort needed, but found nothing. In the last half of the second it took, his eyes met Aaron's once again and saw that the officer, having also searched the room, was out of options.

But _Eric_ wasn't.

When Jørgen Voss had fallen into gasping palpitations like this while sparring there had been options, but no matter how much he appreciated and loved his men like brothers, _that _hadn't been among them.

_Kissing Ariel_, however, _was_ an option, especially given that no other remedy availed itself for the hysteria that seemed to have consumed her. She needed help, and quickly, otherwise she would soon surely faint … or worse. So he drew her close to him, and into a deep kiss. With greater firmness and force than ever he had kissed his love before, Eric brought his lips to hers. Holding them firmly against his own, he sealed their embrace.

Oblivious to what was happening about her and finding her already tenuous source of air cut off, Ariel struggled against him with every ounce of strength left to her; but even on her best day, Eric was far, far stronger than she. Had she not already been so deprived of breath, she would have doubtless cried out in both distress and fright. In that moment, though, she felt his lips soften and widen against hers as he exhaled deeply into her.

The former mermaid felt her lungs fill as his full breath entered her slight body. An urge to exhale surged within her, but she couldn't. Whoever had taken hold of her wasn't allowing her to and instead kept his lips pressed firmly against hers. Her eyes grew wider, wishing only that she could cry. Then she closed them, being blinded by her own tears.

In the distance she heard the single thunderous tick of the clock outside of her bedchamber. For the first time since her panic had begun she felt the unbearable, uncontrollable urge to breathe, to inhale and just as rapidly exhale … lessen. Slowly she breathed out through her nose alone.

The prince breathed in deeply once again, also through his nose, not allowing his embrace of her lips to relent. He felt the soft flutter of Ariel's slender hands grasping at his shoulders. Once again, he poured his life's breath into her, remembering how he had felt not long ago, when sinking down into the deep he had thought that he too … had breathed his last. It had been then that he had first felt them, those very same slender arms and lovely hands that now clutched so desperately at his back. Then it had been _his_ awareness of what was happening that was barely present. He remembered them, though, her arms, her hands, her embrace. He remembered … _her_ … _then,_ even as _now_ … with his eyes closed.

Still disoriented, her head swimming through the tumult of noise, words and sensations that engulfed her, Ariel fought her twin needs to inhale and exhale. As yet, she had little idea of whom had seized her, nor even fully that she had been taken into someone's arms. Her awareness came of these things, came … and went. All that she could think about was her next breath, and the burning pain that resided in her chest.

Once again, Eric breathed into his little mermaid as he felt her hands and delicate fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt, fabric that lay damp with sweat across both his back and shoulders. He could feel her heart pounding, racing, thrust up as her breast was against his own, pounding, but slowing.

Opening his eyes, he looked up to Gray, now sitting nearby holding Carlotta, the woman seeming grateful for his presence. In the instant that he regarded this unexpected sight, Eric was both glad and distressed; glad that the woman who had so often held him was herself being comforted, and distressed that it wasn't he who was the one holding her. He was thankful at the look of relief he saw on Carlotta's face though, her eyes closed and laid against his friend's shoulder.

Extending his hand, the officer placed his middle and index fingers against the young maiden's neckline. "Palpitations, Eric. Still much too fast. I suggest you continue." he advised, shattering Eric's moment of reverie.

Listening but only half-aware, Ariel allowed herself to succumb to whomever was holding her, to let him do as he would. There was nothing that she could do after all, so spent she was. It alarmed her vaguely, how _strong_ _he _was; or rather was it that she was herself so weak? The strange thought drifted about her mind. She wanted it to end, if she were to return to sea foam, at least she would perish in Eric's arms, as close to him as it seemed she would ever be.

_"Eric …" _she thought dreamily as she drifted away.

After perhaps two or three minutes, the former mermaid's breathing had slowed. As he became aware of this, Eric drew his lips into a soft kiss and released those of his betrothed. Her eyes were closed, her face placid. Opening his eyes, he looked over to Aaron, and was surprised to find that Carlotta had moved. She was no longer leaning against the officer, but instead sitting beside him, just down the bed from where he sat, allowing the man the closest position next to where Eric held Ariel.

Gray watched Ariel with care, shifting his measurements of her heartbeat to her delicate porcelain wrist. From his left palm sounded the faint rhythmic ticks of a gold Emery.

"Still a bit fast, but her heartbeat _has_ slowed with her breathing." Then Gray smiled, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Pardon me for saying so Eric, but I can't help but notice that your technique works far better than a leather sack. Well done."

"She'll be all right then?" Eric asked, briefly returning the other man's smile, his eyes never leaving the girl whose head lolled against his shoulder.

"Yes, I think so, but to be honest, I can't be sure, Eric." Gray said, turning his eyes back to the young woman, allowing his own smile to fade. "I'm not a _physician_ …"

_"Aaron."_ Eric said in a soft, almost pleading voice as he stroked his fiancée's hair and neck with his right hand. "Please … if there is _anything_ that you can do to help her, do so. After today it's going to be a long time before I trust any physician_s, _anyone I don't already know, with any of us, _her especially_. _You'll _have to do."

Staring back at the prince, Gray was silent. The grandfather clock ticked away the seconds out beyond the doors. "Very well Eric, I'll need to listen to her heart."

Eric nodded. A gentle smile flickered once again across his lips and faded just as swiftly. He looked over at Gray. The prince was still cradling the former mermaid in his arms, her sitting in his lap with her head laid against his left shoulder, her eyes closed. In contrast to her earlier panic, Ariel's visage now seemed like serenity personified, tranquility made flesh. Eric withdrew his arm from around her chest and lowered his hands to her waist, his entreaty to the Captain implicit.

Gray knelt closer. Turning his head and closing his eyes, he laid his left ear upon the girl's breast, barely above her neckline and below her fine collar bone, just to the left of her equally fine breastbone. Through the soft flesh that lay beneath, Aaron could hear the beating of her heart, soft and feminine, yet strong. _"The heart of a mermaid."_ he thought to himself, musing at how it sounded and felt, so human, and as healthy as that of any young woman's heart that he had ever heard, accompanied by no unusual accents, no murmurs, only a perfect rhythmic beat; the rhythmic beat … of a perfect human heart.

While hardly alert, the young maiden wasn't quite asleep, but was instead caught halfway between dream and wakefulness. She could hear the words around her, could feel the touch of something warm against her upper chest, below her neck. It felt … comforting … warm. She liked feeling warm. Not too warm, but rather like _being loved_.

Seafoam. That was how she felt … like seafoam … drifting on the surf, rising and falling upon the waves beneath the warm and beautiful sun.

Eric looked on, his face calm save for the gentle look of anguish in his eyes for the girl that he held in his arms.

"Her heartbeat sounds normal, Eric, a bit fast I think, but otherwise perfectly fine … from what little I know, mind you." The officer opened his eyes only to find two dazed and weary eyes of the most breathtaking cobalt blue looking straight back into his. They blinked, breaking the sudden trance that had seized him. Gray drew back, the princess's confused eyes following his. "At least she's awake." the man thought as he felt an uncustomary blush rising within him at his closeness to the young woman. He smiled back at her, offering a silent prayer of thanks. If needed, he would have offered countless more.

All that Ariel knew were the voices around her, voices that she knew loved her; or rather, the people who _owned _those voices loved her, human voices, human … _people_.

As she opened her eyes, she found a pair of green eyes staring back, green flecked by the most curious browns, the latter being darkest in their center while giving way to the former at the outside. A fair smile suffused them as she watched, trying to determine to whom they belonged. It occurred to her that she had seen them before, those kind eyes. She liked how it felt, looking at them, and them looking back at her, like she felt in the woodlands near the palace or about the lagoon where she and Eric often went to walk.

To walk. With Eric.

_Eric_.

_His_ eyes were blue … blue like the sky above the sea ... on the most beautiful, clear day.

_Eric_.

_"Where ... where is Eric?"_ she asked softly, hazily, beginning to recognize Captain Carlson and wondering if her betrothed might be nearby.

At this the Captain smiled, a strange mirthfulness creeping into his eyes. This confused her, causing the mermaid to narrow her eyebrows, though she didn't feel at all threatened, just … warm, nothing like she had felt immediately before he had appeared. She wanted to smile in return.

The sounds of the room about her began to return, rather, her _awareness_ of them did. There was a soft ticking sound. From under the bed down near the floor she heard a low, sad, whine; while down her bed from her, Carlotta Grimaldi's face was contorted in grief, tears flowing freely down her face. As she had already discovered, next to her side was Eric's friend Carlson, watching her silently now and smiling after she had spoken. In his left hand he held what she recognized to be a … pocket … pocket watch … just like the one Aubrey had introduced her to at breakfast the morning after she had arrived in Eric's home. She felt a slight tug upon her waist and back as strong arms pulled her upward.

"Carlotta, what happened?" Eric finally asked as he shifted himself up to the bed's head space and drew Ariel along with him.

The rational part of Ariel's awareness connected finally with what she had somehow already known, that she lay in his embrace, _again_, which more than anything else was precisely where she _wanted _to be at that moment. He lay beside her on his left, and she felt him pulling her even closer until she lay half on the bed both beside and beneath him, and half up against him with her face turned upward towards his. She felt so weak.

Had she been awake, Eric thought, it would have been … quite pleasant. As he lay there with the girl in his arms, he slipped the fingers of his left hand beneath her long tresses and began to caress the back of her neck, to slide his fingers through the soft strands of her hair. It never ceased to amaze him, how soft they were, and how much softer her skin was where it had likely never been touched by the sun; and her skin was already amazingly soft as it was. There were few other things he knew that seemed to calm her so, or that she seemed to enjoy and appreciate more.

Much to his surprise, when he looked back down into her beautiful eyes, he found that they were, in fact, quite open, open and looking back up into his. In them, he saw a smile arise before it ever touched her lips.

Then it was her turn to nestle against him, to lay her head against his chest, after which she buried those same beautiful eyes into his damp linen shirt. Pulling herself as close to him as she possibly could, Ariel began to softly cry, her slight frame shuddering almost imperceptibly in his arms.

Were they tears of fear? Sorrow? From the look in her eyes they might well have been of relief, perhaps even happiness. Being just a man, it was difficult for Eric to tell. Women's hearts and feelings were often so unfathomable in their many complex moods and admixtures, let alone the heart of a former mermaid still so new to the human world.

"Oh, it was … it was … _awful_, Eric." Carlotta spoke, her voice broken and choked with the tears she was trying to hold back. "Something's gone terribly wrong. The poor dear she …"

The Housekeeper stopped, putting her hand to her throat and then her breast as she sniffed. A tear ran down her reddened cheek. "After she woke we had a bite to eat together, but when I had her stand to take her to her bath, she just … _fell_. She hit the floor and …"

_"I can't walk Eric."_ came a small, tearful voice from against the prince's chest. _"My legs … they don't … work … anymore."_

Eric looked down to the girl in alarm, yet her eyes had closed again, as though she were ashamed to look at him. If that were the case, though, it seemed that sleep had quickly claimed her, for her eyes remained closed while her chest now rose and fell in a gentle, soft rhythm.

"She had wanted more than anything to get back _out_ to you Eric." Carlotta continued as she fought back her own tears and tried to explain. "I … I just wanted to see that she took a cool bath, to be sure that she was all right and ready to go back outside again, but when she stood up, she just … she just … _fell_."

The young prince was trying to comprehend everything he was being told, by Ariel, by Carlotta, by Aaron. Everything seemed to be spinning about him.

The Housekeeper looked up at the young prince. "Eric. Do you remember what we spoke of, before breakfast three weeks ago?"

The prince looked back at her, then to Carlson, obviously not following the woman's meaning. Now _he_, it seemed, was the one who was dazed.

"About those _spills_ she sometimes takes?" she added in a hushed voice, as though the girl lying there before her couldn't or shouldn't hear what she was saying.

Then a realization seemed to dawn in Eric's eyes, and he nodded. _"Yes." _he replied, his brow furrowing.

"Because you couldn't be here, I … I tried to, well, talk her _through_ it. But … I must have said something terribly wrong, because the poor dear just … well, she just … fell apart." Grimaldi choked, as she started herself to cry again. "It was all my fault … and I'm so, so _sorry_ …." As she spoke, Grimaldi broke down again in tears and sobbed, laying her hand on Ariel's.

At this, Gray looked to Eric then stood. Seeing the indomitable Carlotta Grimaldi in such a terrible state was heartbreaking. Reflecting upon the past many weeks since the Princess's arrival, he realized how much of an additional burden the Housekeeper had taken onto herself, having devoted so much of her time and attention to their new guest while trying to still administer Eric's Household.

As much as he felt the desire to console the woman again, Aaron worried that any attempt to do so would seem unduly familiar, given that he wasn't even remotely close to her, especially in the familial way that Eric was. Indeed, the officer hardly even knew Grimaldi aside from their occasional interactions as a part of his duties. Therefore he did what seemed best, and removed himself from the conversation. Stepping over to the end table that sat now not far from the Princess's bed, he picked up his sword and returned it to its scabbard.

Eric felt a tightness rise in his chest and throat at seeing Carlotta like this, wanting to go to her but having his hands already consumed with the task of comforting his young love. Instead, the prince took both of the woman's hands into his right, his left arm being still looped behind and under the former mermaid as he held her close against him.

"I _love_ _you_, Lottie." he said, then leaning over as far as he could without disturbing his distraught fiancée, the young man reached out and cupped her cheek. "I know that you did everything you could. Please don't worry, she'll get through this. We _all_ will." he finished, returning his right arm to his intended and wrapping it as well about her.

Gray felt his heart fall at the sorrow in the woman's voice. Never before had he heard nor seen Carlotta in such a state of distress, save perhaps on the third day that the princess had been with them alone. Then though, she had been as angry as she had been inconsolable. Carlotta was a kind and loving woman who had done everything to help so many. She had always treated him and his men with deep respect, and here she was, blaming herself for something for which no one could be to blame, no one save for _Østerby_.

The soldier wasn't going to have that. Stepping over to the woman despite his misgivings about possible perceptions of impropriety, he knelt down beside her, taking her hands once again into his.

She looked up at him from her bedside, a curious and broken anguish remaining in her eyes.

_Østerby._ In an instant about him he could _feel_ it, could feel_ him_ about her, that_ man_ … somehow nearby.

It wasn't a smell as Aubrey had described, but instead a nauseous twisting of one's soul, just a hint of its taint lingering about them, a thin oppression of the mind slinking away into the shadows when noticed. As he sought its source, Gray found that it had none. At first he found his eyes drawn to Carlotta's hands in his own, but in casting his gaze about the room found that his eyes came once again to rest upon the Princess's; eyes that were now closed as she tried to shut out everything save for the comfort of Eric's embrace.

The soldier remembered when it had been his brief turn for that, to hold her when she had lost all hope. Then, of course, he hadn't known whom or what she was. No one had, just a silent castaway whom the Prince had found upon the strand, and so mysteriously and uncharacteristically discarded overnight.

The girl hadn't had _such a stain_ about her _then_, Østerby's stain, nor did she _now_. Had old Aubrey been right, _had_ the physician done something to the princess that lingered about her like a sick miasma?

Noticing a movement towards the twin doors of the chamber, the officer realized that both Gertrude and Hans had arrived in the Princess's room.

Immediately, the girl knelt down and began picking up broken bits of porcelain from the floor, doing what she could to clean up and whatever else she could to prepare for the remaining day.

Hans simply stood there, his hat in hand, looking at Eric and his princess, pity rising in his heart not just for the young woman, but for Eric and Carlotta as well. It had been a terrible day for the all of them.

As Ariel began to waken again, she tried to gain a better purchase on where she was, but had trouble focusing on anything other than the burning pain she still felt when she tried to breathe. Things came … and went. _She_ came and went, her awareness, her sense of being here, of being anywhere. Her pain though, wasn't nearly as great as it had been before.

_"Before …"_ she thought.

The former mermaid felt disoriented, where _was _she? Oh yes, in her _bedroom_. Her _human _bedroom. She felt a wonderful encompassing warmth about her. She was in someone's embrace, one not only warm and soft, but strong. It didn't feel at all like Attina's. Was it her _father's_?

Then she remembered Carlotta holding her, but it couldn't be Carlotta holding her because Carlotta was sitting on the edge of the bed not far from her, her hands being held by Eric's friend, the Captain.

As Ariel allowed her mind to focus more upon herself, she realized that she was being rocked back and forth ever so gently, held in a strong grasp and inclined against a powerful muscular chest, amid strong arms. She smiled softly as she recognized Eric's scent, what Carlotta had said in men was called a _musk_, as it flooded her senses and overwhelmed any lingering fear that she still harbored.

By the damp warmth of his chest and shoulder against her cheek, she realized that he was wet, his flesh and shirt wet with sweat, like a little sea that humans carried within them to cool them when they grew too warm. How odd. How odd too that her own little sea had failed her so terrifyingly earlier that day; failed _her_, a _mermaid_.

That warm wetness, its smell, his musk. She couldn't help but think, feel, that it was almost unpleasant, but no, not really. She felt … _safe_, even though her conscious mind still didn't quite realize, quite know, who held her, not every waking moment at least, though these were coming more frequently, becoming more contiguous. _Part_ of her knew, just not _all _of her at once.

Little circles on her back between her shoulders, she could feel them being drawn round and round as gentle fingers caressed her. Then she felt those same fingers shift their attention, and begin to slowly draw their way through her long red tresses, closest to her neck where seldom sunlight or anything else had touched her. That is when the last piece of her puzzle fell into place, when she finally _knew_. She sighed, exhaling softly.

Something like that Attina and Alana had once done for her, but now Carlotta … and Eric too.

Eric's soft touch though, and Eric's touch alone, meant more to her than anyone else's ever had, save perhaps for her mother's; but the girl couldn't remember enough of her mother to honestly know.

_Eric._

It was his touch more than anything else that told her that she had been _right_, that humanity was her _destiny_; that _Eric _was her _destiny_.

Just as she had known he was when she had first seen and heard him.

And he was here … with her, here … _holding her_.

_She was safe_.

_She could breathe._

* * *

**_Author's Note 1: _**_ One of the thoughts that I am exploring in this chapter as well as chapters 3 and 4 is that being given a fully human form, Ariel still lacks many of the skills and awarenesses humans develop as they pass from childhood into adulthood. Though Captain Carlson's diagnosis of "hysteria" would have been quite appropriate in 1805, today a different name for the same condition would have been provided._

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**_Author's Note 2: _**_ I have mixed feelings about TLM stories that explore situations wherein the characters, Ariel especially, are in great emotional pain, fear, and even terror. This isn't because such stories aren't both interesting and rewarding, but rather because even though she's fictional, something deep inside of my soul really dislikes the idea of Ariel or any other girl or woman, real or imagined … suffering. While I would like to think that this is basically an empathetic "humane" response, it is likely more just a protective "masculine" response, one that has tended to translate into how viscerally Eric has reacted to the events in Sael that have brought threatened Ariel or brought her to harm. _

_As I have been writing Sael over the past year or so, a desire to "get Ariel through this" has been nagging at me, sometimes actually keeping me awake at night. While my vision of where Sael has been leading has been rather clear since at least half a dozen chapters ago, often it just takes more time, writing, and chapters than I had anticipated to develop all of the ideas I wish to convey and to show everything that I desire and feel is necessary for subsequent chapters and stories. _

_How I approach this information is important to me as well. I want to really take the reader into not just the characters' minds, but into their hearts. That also takes time._

_Sael__ is about how Ariel, Eric, and those who love them feel, how they confront the challenges presented them in ways that are realistic, limited, and human. Save perhaps for Triton and Østerby, whose abilities have proven quite beyond the scope of normal human experience, no character herein is superhuman. _

_Sael__ is about Ariel as a real human girl (who happens to have been a mermaid) coming to terms with her fears and weaknesses, once she realizes that by becoming human, she has rendered herself almost completely helpless in a seemingly unwelcoming world.  
_

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**_Acknowledgments and Credits:_**

**_Cover Art:_**_ The cover art is "Ariel" by _scarlettiwater deviantart com_._

_The link to the original is _scarlettiwater deviantart com/art/Ariel-296039838

**_Creative Contributions:_** _I would like to mention Crisis Rose's beautiful stories "Prince Eric (Parts 1 and 2)", "Blue," "Til Death Do Us Part," "Before the Fall," as having had an influence on the atmosphere of this chapter and I couldn't help but wink at some beautiful moments from "Why Does it Burn" by Hatter and Hare Productions, "No Ocean's Too Wide" by Converse R Life, and "Out of the Dark" by xSummersx._

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**Ariel's Isle Forum**

**_Character Images: _**I have started a thread and am continuing to update a thread in the TLM Forums to provide active links to the conceptual artwork for each of the characters in Sael and eventually my other stories. I hope you enjoy them, and if so, please write to and tell the artists!

forum/Ariel-s-Isle/189243/1/104993/

**_Information:_** I have also started a thread wherein I will be adding essays about the world of Ariel's Isle that in themselves explore matters if historical fact as re-imagined in this setting or illuminate important concepts, events and other such matters.

forum/Ariel-s-Isle/189243/1/104992/

**_RolePlay: _**A long held dream of mine. I've not yet begun to develop this thread, but it is there for that reason.

forum/Ariel-s-Isle/189243/1/104994/

I'll add these links to my profile.


	21. Chapter 19 - Lull

**Author's Note: **_It has taken a long time to get Ariel through the aftermath of a certain Physician's visit, especially given the detour I took through __Juletrae__ along the way. I promise to continue that somewhat lighter story, but didn't want to get too far ahead of myself with that subsequent part of Ariel's tale. _

_Here we finally find Ariel and Eric together again, as close perhaps as they have been since Sael began, maybe even as close as they have been since fate first brought them together. I really wanted to explore how they felt, as well as how those around them felt, given the awful circumstances that have erupted about their young guest – Eric's future wife. _

_Sael has proven a slow story, especially owing to my penchant for exploring so much in such detail, but there are big things happening herein. Ariel and Eric are becoming ever more deeply bound to one another, falling ever more deeply in love, while those who also love them are getting to, well … know each other. They are –becoming a family._

_I hope it was worth the wait._

**_Publication Date: _**_Sunday, April 17th, 2016 (Minor emendations Wednesday, April 20__th__, 2016)_

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**Sael**

**Chapter 19 – Lull **

"**_Galley of Riches"_**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 4:55 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

When she had first entered the Princess's bedchamber over an hour before, Gertrude had been focused solely upon the Prince's guest and not the state of the room about her. Winded from her run, the young woman had found herself struggling nearly as much as the former mermaid simply to catch her breath as she reached the room's threshold, and froze at the sight of what she found. The room was a mess, at least in comparison to how she had been keeping it.

Of course the end table still stood adrift where she had left it along with the princess's tussled bedcovers, but what appalled the young maid the most was the scattering of fine white porcelain fragments flecked with Prussian Blue that lay strewn everywhere across on the polished walnut dais and carpet on the near side of the bed. The Prince was on the bed's far side, closest to the balcony doors, holding the princess in his arms. For a moment Gertrude fought the sad longing that she felt rise within her, but caught herself before it upset her.

"_Stop."_ she told herself. _"What would mother think if she caught you feeling this way? She's probably so upset with you. It's not fair to either of them, and you know it. You should be glad for them both after all, they've both been so kind to you."_

It was true, she _was_ happy for them, the Prince and this exquisite girl he would almost certainly marry. She liked them both, and wished them both the best. Oddly enough, the girl, who as a young maiden not too unlike herself, gave her hope that someone special … also waited for her.

… _somewhere._

Of course, Gertrude wasn't even of the nobility, let alone of royal blood, and she certainly hadn't been anything as special or as wonderful as a mermaid.

Beneath the bed, she noticed a slight sway to the hanging blankets that almost, but not quite, touched the dais. A breeze played within the room, but she thought it not the cause of the curious movement she was seeing.

Well, no matter, she would clean this mess up, starting with the chinaware shards. The last thing that the princess needed was to have her feet cut by the shards and sharp edges of broken pottery.

* * *

The sound of the Caribbean surf, gray-blue waves feathered with white froth, marching ceaselessly and inexorably into the shore, their countless and inseparable washings back into the sea; this seemed at first to Triton's daughter the sole sound to be heard. Even with that realization though, this was changing as ever so slowly her awareness and faculties returned to her, as her breathing, body, and mind calmed.

In the distance, beyond the delicate lattices of her open balcony doors, beyond the wisps of diaphanous white cloud that adorned them and rippled in the breeze, she heard the cry of a lone seagull.

_Was it someone she knew?_

All else was silent. Was she alone? How much time had passed? Had she fallen asleep again in Eric's embrace, or had it been only moments since she had fully realized that he was there, holding her? She didn't want to open her eyes. He was holding her, and that was better than anything else that she could have hoped for. Upon her slender shoulders, beneath her long and now disheveled mane, she felt three fingers alight upon and caress the back of her neck once again. In little motions to and fro they teased, at first in slow little circles, then began to trace the delicate curves of her spine. Letting her lungs fill with air, she held her breath for a moment … and sighed.

No matter what became of her; she knew, could _feel_, that _he_ wouldn't leave her. He had said so, he had _promised_.

His breath touched against her hair, causing it to stir, to tickle against her ears; his chest seemed to labor against hers, as though he too was short of breath, as though he too needed air. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest against her own, not so desperately as before but with greater force than she was accustomed to feeling in his embrace. She felt so … _close_ … to him. Then his chest swelled as he too seemed to draw in a breath. A little tremor passed through him, not a rumble, but a hum, a soft, soft hum. She could feel the words as they formed upon the air of his breath, in his chest, near his heart …

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

Air.

_där kommer tre vandringsmän på vägen._

It felt so soft, so gentle, so … different.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

Each breath that filled her own lungs seemed a blessing, so cool and refreshing in the wake of what had been such a terrible and terrifying need.

_där kommer tre vandringsmän på vägen._

Upon each was carried into her Eric's scent, the presence of which made her feel like no one and nothing could ever cause her harm.

_Den ene, ack så halt,_

But someone _had_.

_den andre, o så blind,_

Still, she didn't want to open her eyes. Somehow, she was afraid that if she did, she would see Eric's old friend standing there, glaring at her, pouring his undying hatred into her.

_den tredje säger alls ingenting._

Had it been _Henrik Knudsen_ though?

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

He was Eric's friend.

_där segla tre skutor på vågen._

He couldn't be bad, not _all bad_ at least, not for Eric to care for and love him so. He had given Eric apple slices when her love had been so afraid, when his father had been angry at him.

She knew what that was like, to be afraid of an angry father, even one whom she knew _loved_ her. Ariel wished that it could have been _her _though, the one who had comforted Eric when _he_ had been afraid. He was lucky to have had Henrik as a friend. Was it possible, though, that Eric's father loved him as much as her father loved her?

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

Since she had awakened on that first day of her life as a human, not one of Eric's family and friends had been anything less than welcoming to her; welcoming and wonderful beyond what had been her wildest dreams.

_där segla tre skutor på vågen._

They had _all_ been like Carlotta, and Aubrey, and Max; all save the Captain perhaps, for he often left her confused as to how he felt about her.

_Den första är en bark,_

Why should _Henrik_ be any different from _them_? Wasn't he was just afraid that she was something that she _wasn't_, something terrible, a witch … or a _siren_. Being a daughter of the King of the Seas, knowing what she knew from simply that as well as her own explorations and adventures, how could she dismiss such concerns? She _couldn't_. As much as she hated the truth of the matter, she knew that Henrik's fears were well founded, if she understood the human word correctly, that is. She, however, was nothing like either of the horrors that Henrik feared. She simply had to convince him so, and everything would be fine.

_den andra är en brigg,_

Everything would be fine, except … she couldn't _walk_ any longer.

_den tredje har så trasiga segel._

She couldn't even _stand_.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full, _

The former mermaid felt a sudden need for the _reason_ she had given up her former existence, that being her one and only love, that reason being _Eric_.

_på himmelen vandra tre stjärnor, _

Ariel felt his arms wrapped about her, felt herself nestled against the warmth of his body and chest. As she let her thoughts return to her surroundings, the maiden realized that a soft melody drifted in the air about her and Eric.

She felt him breathe in again.

_byssan lull, koka kittelen full. _

No, it wasn't drifting, but instead was _welling up_ from within her love, from within _Eric_. It was a _song_. He was _singing_, singing in a soft, gentle voice. No. _Humming_. Was it both? His chest seemed to tremble with the notes of a song that barely seemed to leave his lips.

Why was he singing so softly? Was it just for _her_?

_på himmelen vandra tre stjärnor, _

She let herself listen, lying very still against him.

"_Will it be like this when we marry?"_ she wondered._"Will he always … hold me so? Will he always … sing to me?" _ She could feel his breath as it danced in her hair, the movement of air warm against her ears as he sang to her, as he held her so close to his heart.

_Den ene är så vit, _

_Air. _

_den andra är så röd, _

Ariel remembered when she had first tasted it, the breath of the world above. Her mother had been there, had held her as she had struggled, her lungs trying to breathe, burning after she had broken the surface too quickly, too eagerly.

_den tredje är månen den gula. _

It had been … _was_ … so unlike breathing into herself the waters of the sea.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

She felt her lungs fill as they pulled in a soft, delicate breath. So cool, so light, so fulfilling; no breath of sea water that she had ever drawn had felt to her so invigorating, had ever felt to her so amazing. It was that, the very _lightness_ of the air, the very ease of breathing it compared to the immense refreshment that it brought that had first astonished her so; after the burning had subsided, that is.

_där blåser tre vindar på haven,_

Now, though, it was not her mother, but _Eric_ who held her.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

Ariel felt his arms about her, around her, felt herself being rocked gently within them, felt his hand and fingers playing at the soft virgin tresses that lay hidden against the back of her neck.

_där blåser tre vindar på haven,_

Being with him, nestled within his arms, it made her feel so, so …

_på Stora ocean,_

… _safe_.

_på lilla Skagerack_

As though therein nothing could ever go wrong … even though something _had_.

_ och långt upp i Bottniska viken._

Why had she felt so_ afraid_?

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

She had been with Carlotta, they had enjoyed … she sought for the words … sand … _sandwiches_, tiny little sandwiches and _soup_ together. _"Toe … may … toes, tomatoes … and bay …sil."_ she remembered. Chef Louis's little meal had been so delicious, so wonderful … so _perfect_.

_sjökistan har trenne figurer._

Furrowing her brow, she focused her mind, trying to remember more.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

She had stood up from the bed, _her_ bed, stood … and _fallen_.

It was so awful, so _unfair!_ As what little she could recall returned to her, it seemed to Ariel that she had never really quite stood at all, but instead her slender legs had collapsed immediately as she had placed her weight upon them. They had felt so very strange, tingling and almost numb, as though they almost hadn't been there at all, but then, neither was her tail there _now_. Was this the Witch's spell, her _curse_? She hadn't turned into a mermaid again, and she could still feel her _legs_. It was so … confusing.

_sjökistan har trenne figurer._

She concentrated on her legs and toes, willing them to move, and felt as they twitched. It was so strange, how they worked. One could think and think and think … and they wouldn't move, but then with a simple thought in a way that had no words to describe it, like flicking one's tail, they _would_, or in her case now, their muscles would at least. She tried to move her toes, and was rewarded with a tiny wiggle as she felt them curl inward one after the other, something she could have never done or even felt with her fins.

Oh, how it heartened her. She was still … _human_.

_Den första är vår tro,_

As her awareness continued to return to her, Ariel recognized the dull ache that had settled into her right arm, this seeming to the former mermaid quite different from the sharp burning that was lessening in her breast. With her eyes still closed, Ariel slid her left hand down Eric's chest to her right elbow, and began to massage it as she closed her eyes a little bit tighter, the only sound issuing from her being a soft gasp, followed by a quiet whimper.

_den andra är vårt hopp,_

It _hurt_, and Ariel wasn't used to pain like this. In all of her adventures that she could remember, she had only been hurt a handful of times. The worst, of course, had been when she had stolen away on Stormy, but he hadn't intended to hurt her. The ensuing accident with the wild dolphin had been her own fault. He had been too fast for her, _too_ wild, as untamable as he had been sweet. Most importantly, she had wanted him to be free. Her head had ached for _weeks_ after she had finally awakened with her father's sad eyes looking into hers.

_den tredje är kärleken, den röda._

Then she felt Eric's arms move. His right hand slipped down her arm until she felt the soft touch of strong fingers at her left. He cupped her hand in his, feeling, trying to discern the source of her distress that had drawn the attention of her own touch.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

Ariel's hand stilled as Eric's enveloped it, cradled it. It was almost … a _question_, she thought, asking her what troubled her. She opened her eyes, looking up again into her prince's. He was smiling down at her, his blue eyes looking deeply into hers now that she had returned to him, his lips parted in the soft song with which he had filled her bedchamber. It had been on the shore, not far from here, that she had first seen those eyes looking up into hers. They were full of so much worry, she thought … so much worry for _her _she realized … so much love. Just like her father's.

_tre äro tingena de goda._

Slipping her left hand out of Eric's gentle grasp, she slid her fingers around to the back of his palm. With her left hand she cupped Eric's and pressed it against her arm, smiling softly up at him as she did so.

_Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,_

His own nascent, pensive smile grew as he continued to sing. Ariel felt his broad hand envelop her elbow and upper forearm. She felt Eric's warmth flowing into her, his hand's embrace and caress chasing away her pain, even as his greater embrace was doing so for the burning ache in her breast.

_tre äro tingena de goda._

Eric tilted his head slightly, his eyes now bright, never ceasing to look into hers. But about them she saw the lines, the dark circles beneath them. She had seen them before, not long after they had awakened from their ordeal, little less than four weeks ago. A shudder swept through her.

_Den första är Gud Far,_

Eric had breathed a sigh of relief when Ariel had finally opened her eyes again. Though she had done so before, this was the first time that he saw her actually _there_, fully aware of herself, of her surroundings, of _him_. He didn't want to speak, not yet. She didn't seem ready for it, such effort, seeming still somewhat dazed, perhaps simply taking the very comfort in this moment of intimacy that he had intended for her. Her look reminded him of when he had found her on the strand, not far from where she had brought him ashore but a month before, silent and in pain, drifting in and out of consciousness. But oh … how she had _looked_ back at him when he had lifted her from the sand.

_den andra är hans Son,_

For the first time in his life, there was a girl with whom he could speak without words, just as Carlotta had been able to, after his mother …

_den tredje mild Jungfru Mari_

As she looked into the eyes of the man for whom she had sacrificed everything to be with, Ariel saw the concern in them deepen. A panicked look spread across his face and those same tired eyes began to glisten, to grow moist. She felt something wet and warm softly kiss her neck, running down along its length to her breast. He was crying, crying _for her_, she realized. Her heart started to hurt again, but she didn't know why. He looked like he was in so much pain that she felt her own eyes growing wet. Why was he hurting so?

"_Are you all right?"_ they both asked at once, their voices breaking the silence that held the room, each half-choked as they fought against their tears.

That moment, their mutual question, caught each of them by surprise, mermaid and human, princess and prince. How odd that they should each ask the same thing, at the same time, and in the same words.

Ariel smiled, and seeing this, Eric smiled as well. His eyes, the lines of his face, his disheveled hair … he looked so weary to her. He brought his right hand to her cheek, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb before returning it to her forearm.

"_I'm fine love. I'm just worried about you."_ he whispered, keeping his voice low and soft, with only the surf, the breeze and the sounds of bits of chinaware being gathered to accompany it. _"Does your arm hurt?"_ Eric asked, continuing to hold her and massage her arm, his gentle song having surrendered to equally gentle words.

She nodded softly, a plaintive look in her eyes that she didn't wish to permit there, but could do nothing to dispel.

The instant that he had spoken, though, Ariel had felt a sadness descend upon her. She missed hearing his voice in song, even his soft humming. He had been singing to her, _for_ her, just as he had been crying for her. Even his eyes said so, as she looked upon herself reflected in them, realizing that she was the sole object of his attention.

Had he ever _sung _for her before last night? In her haze and confusion, Ariel couldn't remember.

No. Last night had been the first time, after she had begged him; and his voice, it was so deep, so, so … _beautiful_. It made her want to simply melt and _pour_ herself into him. Again, she dreamt of how their life together would be. Ariel found that she didn't wish to think of anything else, anything other than that day when it came, after which she would truly be _with _Eric, and nothing and no one could ever part them.

He had sung to her last night, a song perhaps in that other language that he said was the one of his birth, the one that he seldom spoke any longer. It had been a lullaby, and it had left her eyelids heavy, her legs and body sleepy. That had been how they had ended their evening together, with him singing a lullaby to her outside her bedroom doors.

His voice had been so … so beautiful … so soft … so _tired_.

"_What does it … mean?" _Ariel asked, her voice still hushed as she wondered at the sounds, turning them about in her mind. The former mermaid struggled to decipher them, but to no avail, discerning only that they sounded _different_, even from Eric's other tongue, just as had the words of his song the night before.

Eric looked back at her, not fully understanding her question.

"_Your song."_ she smiled, closing her eyes again and nestling more closely against him, were that even possible. _"You were singing to me, the same song from last night?"_

"_Oh. No, a different song."_ Eric smiled in return, leaning forward to lay a soft kiss against her forehead. _"This one is about wanderers."_

"_Wanderers?" _she asked, a certain part of her being now excited by the thought.

He nodded_"Yes … travelers, ships and the sea … far off places." _his voice trailed off.

Ariel opened her eyes again, finding herself staring up into Eric's, precisely as she had hoped she would. Her eyes brightened even more at the mention of the vastness of the human world as his words reminded her of what had brought her to her present state.

The young prince looked back down at her, seeing the curious and questioning look in her eyes, his soft smile mixed with an unceasing look of deep worry for her. He continued to hold and caress his bride-to-be.

"_Yes," _he laughed softly,_"… and I promise, someday I'll take you to see __all__ of them. All you have to do now, though, is just dream about them sweetheart." _Once again he brought his lips to just above her delicate eyebrows, closing his eyes as he did so, and placed a gentle kiss there, causing her to close her own eyes, then look up to him.

The young woman smiled softly, her fear having long now fled in her future husband's embrace. Why did she always feel so safe in his arms, she wondered, so _warm_?

"_Your arm hurts, love?" _Eric asked. _"Please, tell me what's wrong, Ariel. What happened?"_

Ariel's tenuous smile faded as she laid her head against the pillow and Eric's chest. Though her arm ached still, she found her attention returning to the dark circles beneath Eric's eyes. How had she not noticed them earlier that day, last night? Had they already been there?

As her awareness continued to grow, she could feel the presence of other people nearby, others that she remembered having seen amid her earlier breathless panic. Sometime soon, she would have to turn, to face them. She felt so embarrassed, so … _guilty_.

Everything that was happening to her, she realized with dawning horror, was happening to everyone else around her too. They were _hurting_ too. Eric was _hurting_. The former mermaid didn't want it to be so. At the very least, could her troubles not _always _ensnare those she loved, those who loved her? How many times would the choices that she made drag in those whom she loved, those whom she _adored_?

She thought about Eric, about Carlotta, Aubrey, and Max … and she thought about Master Hans.

Looking up to Eric, she raised her left hand to his cheek, gently cupping his face in it, tracing out the dark lines she found there. His cheek was still damp, his eyes flush with tiny threads of red in their whiteness. Yet the blue within remained the same as it had been when she had first looked upon it, upon them, a blue like that of the sky when she had first risen above the waters. His hair was tossed and matted on the left, as though it had been pushed back and rubbed, tussled and not combed or brushed for days. She felt an urge to take a dinglehopper to it.

That was the little part of Attina in her … no, _her mother_ in her. As she studied him, Ariel couldn't help but notice how heavy Eric's eyelids seemed there next to her, as though he was but one long blink away from a deep and even longer slumber. As she watched, those eyelids drew slowly ever more closed. Her chin and mouth quivered as she realized that he, even more than she, was desperately in need of rest, sleep. That revelation sent a shock of panic through her.

He had done this once before for her, weeks ago, forgone his sleep on her behalf, and she hadn't seen it coming. She hadn't even been aware that it was possible, not until he had collapsed against her in town. She had thought she had lost him then, lost him so soon after they had finally been able to be together. _"Never again"_ she had promised as she had sat by his bedside, promised herself, promised _him_. Yet here they were, and not just him now.

As these thoughts troubled her, she felt her heart pounding a little harder in her chest. She felt such a fearful weakness in her arms, a wetness in her own eyes; the same human tears that she had first shed for him so many weeks ago, when she had thought that he might be lost to her. She didn't want to be a curse, a burden upon Eric and his family. She _couldn't_ be.

… but she was still so _afraid_.

Eric's head snapped back up from its droop as his eyes blinked open, looking wildly about for a moment before finally settling upon the only thing in the world that in that moment mattered to him.

"Eric, I'm so _sorry_." she said as her tears finally began to spill down her cheeks as she nestled against him once again.

"_Sorry? Ariel, love, for what?"_ Eric asked, a weariness lingering in softness of his words. "_For falling?"_

Ariel nodded her head but then paused, and shook it instead.

"_For what then?"_ he whispered, sliding his right hand up her arm to her chin.

"For what happened this morning." she wept. "For what happened with your friend, for what happened with the healer who came to see me."

"Ariel." Continuing to gently cup her chin, he looked into her eyes, holding them with his own. "Nothing that happened today was even _remotely_ your fault. Nothing that you did was wrong or even out of place. You had every right to be out there exploring and enjoying yourself. I only wish that I had been there with you." He paused as his visage darkened. "If I _had been,_ then _none_ of this would have happened."

Ariel lowered her eyes slightly, trying to discern if Eric was merely being kind, trying to salve her hurting heart, or if he was telling the truth. Then she felt a slight tug at her chin, and the warmth of Eric's fingers beneath it, cupping it gently once again. "Did you know that I had been looking for you?"

The girl was surprised, and shook her head slightly, slowly, but remembering now that he had said so that morning when he had found her on the Quay.

"It's true." he smiled, nodding. "I was lonely and I thought that maybe we could go out and walk along the shore before our stroll through the woods … if I could only wake you up, that is." His chest rumbled in a soft chuckle. "Just a few weeks ago, you were waking _me_ up in the mornings."

A small pout started to register on Ariel's face, in her eyes and lips, a display of sadness so much prettier than Max's.

Eric's chuckle became a laugh at the thought. "I think you must have slipped out before I knocked on your door."

"_You came to my room?"_ she whispered, her eyebrows narrowing. _"When?"_

Eric nodded. "A little after dawn. Not only that, but after I knocked and there was no answer, I peeked in to make sure you were all right." His already soft voice grew quieter. "I tried not to pan … _not to worry_. I thought that you had probably slipped down to the shoreline, so I went out looking for you." He drew his fingers to her nearby tresses and brushed them back, running them gently through her long, soft crimson locks. He seemed to enjoy studying the slender red strands as he played with and caressed them.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful your hair is, how pretty you keep it?"

His words brought a smile to her face, the corners of her mouth curling upward slightly as she felt herself beginning to blush. She nodded softly, as usual not comfortable with such words of praise, even though they felt nice, especially coming from Eric … _very nice._

"I have?"

She nodded against him again.

"_Oh."_ The young prince seemed to slip into a moment of deep contemplation. "Then, have I ever told you how beautiful _you_ are?"

If the prior moment of warm embarrassment had turned the girl's face a tinge of pink; that became now a violent flush of red as she ducked her head softly against him and lay there with her forehead against his upper breast.

"_Eric, there are other __people__ here."_ she whispered, trying to find some reasonably modest way to distract herself from the sudden warmth that she was feeling.

"_Oh?"_ he asked. "I'm sorry. Actually, I hadn't noticed anyone but _you_." he teased, looking momentarily at Carlota, Hans, and Aubrey and winking at them. "Now, are you going to tell me what _happened_?"

"Eric, _no_, you look so tired. _Please rest … please?" _she pleaded, a twinge of desperation in her eyes and face. "I couldn't bear it if something bad … happened … to you again."

"Ariel, I'm all right." he smiled, once again cupping her chin. "Now, are you going to tell me or do I have to ask _Carlotta_?"

Ariel looked up at him with her beautiful wide blue eyes, then to Carlotta, and in them Eric saw her relent, just before she lowered them again.

"_My legs don't work anymore." _she replied in a whisper._" … I don't know why."_

"Well, let's have a look, shall we?"

Ariel looked up at him, wondering that if her father's power had failed, what could anything or anyone else do to restore it? Still, she remained human to all appearances, as well as in feeling. Those aspects of her new nature hadn't failed. She could feel her legs, her feet, even her ten perfect little toes that moved and wiggled prettily when she concentrated upon them. Just at that moment as she was contemplating the matter, she drew her left leg upward. Her hand slipped up to her neck. Had she misunderstood what had caused her to fall, just as she had misunderstood the healer's lee … _leeches_?

Ariel looked down at her legs then back up to Eric. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes, then slowly and silently let it go. With a slight nod of her head, she returned her eyes to Eric's.

Having her assent, Eric pushed himself up on his left elbow from where he lay, carrying Ariel with him and twisting until his and her legs both slipped off of the bedside and he sat to her right. While his feet came to rest fully upon the floor, her toes just barely brushed the wooden dais beside them. Her skirts, though, fell and dangled about her feet, wafting a little breeze across them, her toes and calves.

Again, it was a feeling that made Ariel feel so very _human_, and no longer a mermaid, no longer a girl with a tail and fins, but with legs and feet. "_Legs and feet that no longer work__." s_he fretted, trying to hope for the best, but found herself too afraid that any good might now come of what had happened.

"All right." Eric began. "I'm going to help you stand up, but first we need to have a look at your arm and legs."

Ariel nodded, looking up to see Carlotta on the far side of Eric standing near the bed as well as Master Hans standing toward the sitting area of her bedchamber. To her right was the young maid Gertrude who had ever more frequently been helping Carlotta. Across the room was Captain Carlson.

The prince looked over to Gray who now stood near the balcony windows, tending to the long gossamer white curtains that hung beside each and at night covered the twin doors, his gaze directed westward to the sea. "Aaron, I need your help examining Ariel's legs. She hurt her arm when she fell and I think we need to have a look at it first."

Carlotta's face flushed but before she could say anything, he spoke, as he did so noting the appearance of Grimsby in the sitting area of the chamber. "Carlotta, I _know_ what you're thinking, but I'm not permitting any more strangers in the palace until this matter is _settled_. Aaron's more than capable of taking care of her, her arm at least, and you'll be here the whole time to make sure nothing improper happens."

Having remained silent through all of the young Prince's quiet conversation with his even younger bride-to-be, Hans Sael watched and felt increasingly worried for them both as he realized for the first time how fatigued both Eric and his princess were. What, though, could he _do_? He wondered if leaving the two to their privacy and peace would be better than just standing there, but he owed Eric a warning of what awaited him out on the Quay and aboard _Lyn_, that being Henrik Knudsen's unctuous determination to tear this petite former mermaid away from the lad forever, and perhaps even worse. He couldn't and wouldn't allow that.

The thought, though, of the boy having a look at the princess's legs snapped Hans out of his absorption, and being the old salt that he was, he couldn't help but admit a wry grin to his lips. Eric wasn't like that of course, but even if he had been, Sael couldn't have blamed the young man, so beautiful and fair she was. Even if it were out of passion for the girl, what other man wouldn't share such a curiosity?

That was when he noticed Mistress Grimaldi staring at him.

Carlotta looked back at the prince, her jaw caught in mid-drop, then over to the just-arrived Aubrey and then Gertrude, searching their faces for any hint of alarm at what Eric had just suggested. Master Sael wore a distinct and mischievous smile that barely registered with her, his eyebrows raised quizzically.

While her search was greeted by a similar but faint smile from Beauclerk, only a soft spreading flush of pink upon her face hinted at what Gertrude Elise's feelings might have been on the matter.

"Ehh … well Eric, j … just be a _gentleman_." she said, an uncharacteristic hint of a stammer in her voice. Then looking over to the windows she focused on the young Captain who now stood there looking back, dumbstruck, a bit of drapery still caught in his right hand.

The Matron seized the officer in her gaze with an implicit motherly threat, remembering the look she had seen on his face when he had looked with care at the then-sleeping princess. "And you as well, _Captain_, though I'm quite certain there's _nothing_ to _worry_ about. She's a _princess_, and soon enough she'll be _our_ princess. Just be considerate of what ignorant people outside this house might say … or _assume_."

Grimaldi kept her eyes locked on the officer's, studying both him and his visage. He looked back though, as the moment of surprise passed, until the Housekeeper realized that he was now studying her just as intensely as she was studying him.

As he stood there, the limb of the sinking November sun shone through the left side of the twin doors. The light of late afternoon now poured into the princess's room. About his feet, the polished walnut floor about his boots flared into a golden fire, a fire that rose up his back making him too bright to look upon without discomfort.

The officer stepped forward, his body blocking most of the light behind him and allowing both his face and body to once again be seen.

"_Madame_, neither the princess nor the prince have or have ever had any reason for concern about either me or my comportment." he replied, his voice calm but underlined with a slight tension in his expression. "Quite the _opposite_, I assure you."

He stopped, punctuating his words with a long pause. "I shall do as Prince Eric asks, as I have since I first arrived. You _remember_ the day, I'm sure?"

Feeling herself blushing, Carlotta broke off her stare. It was true. She remembered that day but also felt a pang of embarrassment that she forgotten in that moment the _circumstances_ of the Lieutenant's arrival, and how much they owed to him and those whom he had led, too many of whom had died for their sakes.

That, though, had been long before their young charge had appeared upon the nearby sands five weeks ago.

Eric was more than a little surprised at the tenor of the exchange between the two, and made a note to discuss it with Carlotta later. It had been almost as though she had been _suspicious_ of Gray. Whatever her reason, it wasn't helping the matter at hand._"Aaron?" _

Gray looked to the prince and princess. At Eric's renewed request, the officer stepped across the newly brightening room. Reaching down, he pulled the stool closer to the bedside where Eric and Ariel now sat shadowed before him, with him still suffused in the jaded sunlight of a nearly spent day.

"Will it … _hurt_?" she asked, looking back up him to her left as Eric continued to hold her hands in his own, his arms wrapped around her.

"I promise_,_ Princess, I'll do my best to ensure that it _doesn't_."

Ariel wondered if she should ask him to simply call her by her name as he did with Eric, as Hans did with Eric. The moment didn't seem right to her, but she had never liked being a princess before being simply _Ariel_. Too many barriers and formalities in life had stood between her and happiness, all of them adding to her loneliness. No title addressed to her had ever made so happy as hearing her own name said with simple love and affection.

"_Your arm hurts?"_

The girl nodded, looking down to where Eric held her aching forearm and elbow in his warm right hand. The pain had lessened in both, but she didn't want to look at either.

"And your legs?

"… _no." _she replied in a soft voice, only a little less quietly than she had been speaking to Eric.

"Can you feel them?"

"Yes." She looked up, her voice now a little stronger. "… but I couldn't when I fell. They were … they felt like sea urchins or je ..." she stopped as she sought for and remembered a word, "jelly fish were sti … stinging them."

Gray paused to think, then looked back at her. _"Sea urchins and jellyfish."_ He considered her choice of similes and wondered what her experiences, her life as a mermaid, must have been like for her to have made that comparison; her life as a _princess_ no less.

"May I examine your arm?"

The word _examine_ caught her by surprise. That was what the _healer_ had said _he_ was going to do to her, and at first it had felt wonderful, save that it wasn't Eric doing the _examining_. It hadn't ended well, though, thus the Captain's questions left her feeling unexpectedly afraid.

Eric felt Ariel's body tense in his arms and heard her stifled whimper as it caught in her throat, but had no idea of why. He could feel, though, that she was _frightened_. _"Shh, shh, it's all right." _he soothed, looking to the officer. _"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"_

Her reaction horrified Gray. "Princess, all that I intend is to determine if you have _broken _your arm. I _promise_, _I will_ _not_ _hurt you_." He paused, and then in an even softer and more caring voice, continued. "Did I say something wrong?"

Ariel lowered her head. "That's what the h … healer said when he came – he wanted to _ex … am … in_ me." She took a moment to breathe in, closing her eyes. "At first, it felt so nice, but, but then he wanted to ve ... veni … veni …" she found herself struggling for the word but couldn't remember it fully. It was something that she knew she didn't like, something that _scared_ her, the thought of those vicious hidden blades snapping and slicing through her skin.

"_Ah."_ Gray reached out and laid his right hand upon hers. "I understand now. I promise, I'll do nothing of the sort."

She looked up at him as Eric continued to hold and soothe her, looking into the human's eyes trying to be sure he wasn't going to surprise her as the healer had.

As before, Ariel found that she liked the look of his eyes, their admixture of browns and green flecks. They were calming to her, honest and at least to her sensibilities, oddly innocent, at least that is how her heart felt. It was a warm feeling that made her smile, and blush just a little. She felt the surprising warmth of his hand on her own. It felt … comforting … like Urchin's once had, even perhaps Apollo's; but being of the land, the officer's was far warmer.

"There," Gray smiled happily at her expression. "That's _much_ better. Shall we have a look then?"

It was a wholesome smile, straight white teeth and bright eyes – the first that she remembered from him. No … no, he had smiled at her before. _When?_ Again, she struggled with fleeting half-memories. She returned his smile for a moment, allowing her hopes to rise a bit too quickly.

"Princess, I am going to slide back the sleeve of your dress up to and just above your right elbow, yet no further unless needed. Please let me know if there is _any_ discomfort and I can stop immediately."

Ariel nodded, leaning slightly back into Eric.

Gray gathered the cuff of her sleeve and as promised, slid it gently up her arm, past her elbow. Despite not wanting to look, Ariel couldn't help but watch in fascination. She was afraid that she might have been cut, or worse, and was ready to snap her eyes away at the first sign of blood, but there was none. The former mermaid breathed a small sigh of relief.

Gray's fingers pressed and probed along the length of her forearm, and Eric cooperated by momentarily releasing it much to Ariel's dismay. The officer proceeded with his survey of her arm up past the elbow, even though he could already see the purple discoloration that began halfway up. "Please tell me if you feel any discomfort or pain Princess."

As the man's fingers approached her elbow, Ariel felt a sudden threat of pain leap through her arm, not pain itself, but the knowledge that in the following instant it would come. She tensed and stifled another whimper.

Gray looked up at her. _"There?"_

She nodded, thankful that he hadn't pressed any further.

"There's a fair bruise, just below your elbow princess, but no broken bones, or so it seems to me." He looked up at Eric. "Would you like to look?"

The prince nodded, craning his head over.

"There's no … _blood_?"

"None at all. Well, with the bruise of course, but that is under the skin. Why do you ask?"

Ariel smiled and bit her tongue, shaking her head. She wasn't going to be a guppy any more about this, now that she knew that she wasn't bleeding. She had endured enough thoughts, enough _memories_, of her own blood today, but now that she knew there wouldn't be any more now to add to them, she was able to relax.

Ariel debated as to whether or not she wanted to see for herself. Assured that there was no blood, her innate curiosity won out. Turning her arm slightly, she surveyed the long dark patch of black and blue that ran up to and just beyond her elbow. She felt a slight sick feeling rise in her stomach.

"Mistress Carlotta, a thin cloth and some dry ice would do her arm a world of good."

Having had to watch all of this and sure that more was to come with the girl's legs, Grimaldi was finally happy to have something that she could do to help. "_Gertrude honey_, would you fetch some ice from the pitcher for the poor dear?"

"Yes, of course Mistress."

Thankful at being able to do something useful, something to help, Gertrude stepped over to the pitcher beside the Captain, taking it in hand and emptying the meltwater. The remaining ice she wrapped in a clean napkin and tied its four corners. Turning, she was quite surprised to find everyone else in the room watching her.

Carlotta Grimaldi, flanked by Hans, was watching the two men like a hawk, and Elise happened to be caught up in that protective matronly glare.

Despite trying to keep her mind on her appointed task, looking up she found herself caught by Captain Carlson's eyes, his head turned slightly to look at her as were everyone else's. She felt a sudden flush come over her, not wanting to stare.

Slipping over to the princess and prince at the girl's bedside, she took the ice-laden cloth and held it out, pressing it to the young woman's bruised forearm and elbow. "You'll need to keep this pressed to your arm, Princess."

"The bruise should fade in a few days, and the pain perhaps in just a few hours." Gray added.

"I have it." Gray said, placing his hand over the cloth and pressing it gently against Ariel's arm. "Thank you Miss Larsen."

The young woman smiled back at the officer, then stepping away, returned to her tidying of the floor.

"Now that your arm is seen to Princess, shall we have a look at your legs?"

Ariel nodded but ducked her head slightly. Never had there been even the slightest reservation about her or any mermaid revealing her _tail_, the very possibility was unthinkable. How could one _swim_ otherwise? Yet humans attached such importance, such _secrecy_ _and reserve_ to certain parts of their bodies, and for women, especially to their legs. No, it was more than secrecy, it was _much more_ than that. She realized that once again, she was blushing furiously.

Even Eric had never touched her there, upon her bare legs, not that she remembered at least, though if he had found her on the sands and carried her the first time here to her bedchamber, he must have, for she hadn't had any human clothing then. Since then, though, only the human healer, his father, and Carlotta had done so.

Seeing the girl's reaction, Gray felt a sudden twinge of guilt. He hadn't meant to embarrass the princess, but was still deeply touched by her reaction, by the innocence in her that it clearly betrayed. It confirmed everything that he had discerned in her from the moment she had arrived. Turning to the Housekeeper, the officer acted upon this new thought. "Mistress Carlotta. May I ask for your assistance?"

"Err, why, of course."

"I'm going to ask the princess to raise her legs, one at a time, then both. All that is required is for you to hold the princess's leg in your hands, and run them along their lengths, kneading the muscles and bones to feel for any irregularities. We gentlemen can turn our backs or leave the room if you wish." Turning to the younger maid, he continued. "Miss Larsen, you can assist. If either of you find anything unusual, especially anything that hurts her, please tell me."

"Thank you Captain, but turning away won't be necessary."

Carlotta found herself surprised by the man's apparent change in sensibilities, leaving her more confused at having challenged him, and upset at herself for having questioned his motives after he had comforted her just a little while ago. She looked to Eric, Gertrude, and then finally Ariel, studying each of their faces for just a second. It was then that she too noticed how deathly tired Eric seemed, while Ariel looked back, returning her gaze with an innocence that only a sixteen-year-old former mermaid was capable of. As for poor Gertrude, the girl was positively looking to her for guidance, for _permission_.

"All right. Well, let's make sure that those pretty legs of yours are in good order."

"Princess, can you raise your legs? I would like you to try, starting with your left."

Ariel looked over at the Captain as he spoke, breaking off her gaze with Carlotta. She nodded. "I don't know if I can."

"Yes, I understand, let's see though."

Looking down at the hem of her dress, she saw her toes peeking out from beneath its pale blue and the white of the delicate petticoat below. Petticoats and dresses, stockings, and unmentionables. They were all human words, human things, and she was wearing them, or had been in the case of her stockings that now lay stretched out across the table behind Carlotta. And toes, and toenails, and feet, and ankles; she had them now, all of them!

She lifted her left foot slightly until the hem of her dress slipped away from it. It was working, she was doing it! Then, remembering back to when she had first awakened in this room after the terrible pain in her throat had subsided, when it had all been so strange yet also so exciting, she remembered something else, another _moment_. Staring intently at her toes, she concentrated … and was rewarded as they each wiggled in a tiny little wave from the smallest to the largest, then back again.

Carlotta, Gertrude, Hans, Aubrey, everyone in the room let out little gasps and cries of encouragement to her. The former mermaid burst out into a bright, hopeful smile. Ariel found it heartening and was seized with a sudden optimism that she could do better. After all, she had wiggled her toes and drawn her leg in slightly before this. Her legs worked. She just couldn't _stand_.

"A good start." the Captain offered, letting his pleased expression subside. "Now, _raise_ it please."

Ariel looked back at him, her own smile fading at the new and harder challenge. She turned her head, looking down at her legs, then looked back at the Captain for just a glance before returning her eyes to her toes. She bit her lower lip, but felt Eric's arms tighten around her in a reassuring squeeze. Looking up to him at her right, she found her eyes caught up in his.

"You can do it love. I know you can."

Eric's unconditional confidence in her made her smile, and made her more determined.

Turning her attention back to her feet, she pursed her lips and concentrated. Slender crimson eyebrows narrowed; her delicate brow furrowed as her left leg trembled … and rose, rose slowly until it extended fully before her.

"_Yes honey, that's it!" …_

"_Princess, that's wonderful!" … _

"_There ya' go lass." … _

"_Excellent my dear."_

"_**Ruff!"**_

Max's bark of approval startled the six out of their congratulatory moment.

"_Well done, love. I knew you could do it." _Eric whispered, rocking her slightly in his arms as she lay smiling against him.

The sight of the two of them, the princess and her prince there together, with him holding her as close to him as he could, holding her heart as close to him as he could, Gray guessed, caused there to well up within the Captain that same deep and terrible longing from within his own heart. He struggled to put it down once again.

Were the merfolk really so much like humans that they had might as well _be_ humans save with tails like those of dolphins instead of legs, humans who breathed seawater instead of air? Not some alien and fae race, but one of _feeling and mind_, and _heart_, one every bit at the mercy of the world as the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve? To him there was nothing _fae_ about this princess, save for the amazing sense of wonder that lived within her, almost child-like, but _not_; instead something far more keen.

"Mistress Carlotta, please inspect her left leg for any injuries or pain, then do so with her right leg." he said, standing and turning away, Hans and Aubrey following suit.

Max, however, continued to look up, his head poking out from beneath the bed skirt and eyes directed affectionately upward toward the Girl from the Sea, matters of human propriety lost completely upon him. All that he knew was that she smelled better, happier, though not yet so much as she normally did.

Over the next two minutes, Carlotta and Gertrude examined the young princess's legs, finding no signs of injury nor pain, but an unusual weakness. Ariel tired quickly of holding her legs and feet outward.

"All done." Grimaldi announced, smoothing down the seashell-embroidered hem of Ariel's skirt. Her legs dangled now once again beside the bed above the polished wood as she sat securely in Eric's embrace. "She didn't seem to have any pain and her muscles and bones seemed perfectly normal and smooth, Captain."

Somehow, Gray wasn't surprised, neither that there was no seeming cause to the Princess's weakness, nor to the fact that her legs were likely, for all human purposes, nearly as perfect as could be imagined. He turned back to face the princess and Eric.

Eric slowly opened his eyes, looking into Ariel's and smiled.

She smiled back softly. At least she felt safe, and things were getting better, she was _sure _thatthey were.

Eric leaned forward from his position at her right, her hands still held in his. "I'll have to let go of you for a moment."

At first, a look of worry clouded her expression, but Ariel nodded, trusting that he wouldn't go far. He had said _"for a moment"_ after all.

Eric then slipped around from beside her, keeping her right hand caught in his own, then gently took it into his left as he turned and knelt before her. Reaching out, he slipped his right hand about her left from where it had come to rest in her lap.

"Ready to stand?" he asked, a soft, confident, lopsided smile twisting his right cheek into a dimple.

Ariel looked up at him, surprised at his choice of words. At the sight of his smile, her little moment of fear faded. _"How can he be so sure?" _she wondered, but her own hope was growing. None of them thought that there was anything wrong with her legs. She could move them, raise them, flex her pretty feet, and wiggle her little toes. Everything … _worked_.

Once again, she nodded, closing her eyes as she did so.

"Ariel, do you remember the first time that you ever stood?"

She opened her eyes, blinking twice. _"Yes. It was right here."_ she whispered, looking down at her bed and the floor beneath it. A mop of white and grey hair lay three just inches from her right foot, causing her to smile. She reached out with it, with her toes, giving Max a soft caress with them behind his long ears. His hairy fur felt so soft to them.

The dog craned his neck a bit to better enjoy the most unexpected and uncommon of ministrations … the gentle attentions of a mermaid's tender feet.

"And how did that _feel_?" Eric asked. "When you first _stood?_"

Ariel paused, her eyes lowered as she remembered. _"Wonderful ..."_ she smiled wistfully, "… like nothing else I had ever felt." By then, her blue eyes and soft visage had become suffused with a dreamy, even ethereal aspect. "I felt so, _so_ … _human_."

"And do you feel human _now?_" the prince asked, peeking down to meet her eyes as he held her hands in his own.

This caused her smile to broaden, and quickly grow into a loving grin. She nodded.

"Good. Because you _are_. So let's get you onto those pretty feet of yours."

It caught her by surprise, Eric thought that her feet were _pretty_? Well, she did too, but that was because they were _her_ feet, her _human feet_. She felt herself blushing again as her prince slipped his arms around her waist. Ariel caught her breath as he did so, looking down at his strong hands and muscular forearms as she felt him lift her from her bedside. She felt her feet alight on the floor for a moment as Eric drew her slender frame into a standing position, then pulled her against his breast. Her legs straightened, dangling beneath her as her toes brushed the smooth polished wood below.

Opening her eyes, she found Eric's own eyes looking into hers, reassuring her as she felt him lowering her feet to the floor. "Now, try to hold yourself upright, love."

She nodded, willing her knees to lock, the muscles in her thighs and calves to tighten. Ariel felt her all of her weight descend upon her toes, her heels, the soles of her feet. Her calves felt so weak, so infirm, like her fins had once felt; her knees strained to stay straight, her thighs and hips trembled.

Watching her closely, and most importantly, feeling her struggling so, Eric felt that he needed to act, to do _something_. He knew now what the problem was, or at least _strongly_ suspected what it was, confirming what Carlotta had earlier suggested, but he couldn't tell his little mermaid.

"_Thank God for her father's foresight."_ he thought.

Eric adjusted his gentle hold of her, leaning her back and taking some of her weight back into his hands, letting her rest on his upturned forearms that now supported her upper back. Feeling the change, Ariel looked up in alarm, only to feel her lips caught by his in a gentle kiss; one that quickly deepened, one that once the moment of surprise had faded, she just as deeply returned. His lips pressed into hers, soft yet certain, melded into hers as she felt him take her weight off of her feet, until it seemed to her that she was floating in his embrace, suspended in mid-air, nestled there … fast against him.

The former mermaid felt her heart pounding deep within her, just as she once again felt Eric's against her own breast. A gentle but odd warmth permeated her as the sun hovered in the western sky beyond her balcony doors, leaving the far side of the room in the shadow of their embrace. Once again, she felt her feet touch the cool wooden floor as Eric's lips parted from hers.

Her breathing felt so strange, and she so light-headed, faint almost. There was a thrilling tingle in her legs, about her whole body, a sudden and almost unbearably lovely warmth radiating out through her from somewhere near her tummy.

She opened her eyes, once again to find Eric looking into hers, still themselves not fully open. He smiled. "This _is_ why you came, isn't it?" he asked softly, cradling her in his arms. "For all of _this_, so that you could walk, run … so that you could be one of us?"

She looked down, felt the fullness of her admittedly slight weight poised upon now firm legs. She felt her toes against the fine polished wood, the soles of her feet carrying her weight. She shifted slightly in Eric's embrace only to realize that his hands now lay only softly against her.

She was_ standing_. _On her own_.

Then his last words entered her consciousness, and she felt the tears welling up from within her eyes … human tears.

"_No."_ she shook her head, leaning heavily against and wrapping her slender arms around him, as those tears began to fall and slip softly down her cheeks. "I came …"

"… so that I could be with _you_."

* * *

_**Author's Note 1: **__**Byssan Lull - "Galley of Riches" **__or __**"The Galley Lull"**_

_"Byssan" is Swedish sailor's argot for "kabyssen," with translates to "the galley," that is, the kitchen on a boat, and "lull" is an idiom for riches. According to commenters on various web sites, the song is known by the same name in Norway and has variants in Finland as well. It is unclear to me if it is well known in Denmark or not, but I did find that while the Swedes and Danes find their languages fairly mutually intelligible, Danish to them is more akin to German, and somewhat opaque to both._

_The song commonly tells of various sets of three things, wanderers, ships, stars, treasures, etc._

_If you want to know what it sounds like, here is my favorite recording, as sung by Kari Bremnes:_

_www youtube com/watch?v=cpagCG9Cwvs&amp;list=RDDeYPyLwhTBU&amp;index=14&amp;nohtml5=False_

_According to Uno Myggan Ericson, Evert Axel Taube, "one of Sweden's most respected musicians and the foremost troubadour of the Swedish ballad tradition in the twentieth century," improvised Byssan Lull "on his lute on a quiet August evening in Skågen." _

_The tune to the song, however, is a variant of the so-called Fiskeskärsmelodi that Taube's mother used to sing it to him as a child while the kitchen kettle was boiling. Perhaps for this reason, there seems to be some disagreement about this origin of Byssan Lull, with another school of thought seeming to be that it is actually a very old song that was instead popularized by Taube. This is the somewhat dubious premise by which I have appropriated it for "Sael," assuming the fiction that it is a much older song of the sea._

_Taube worked out the lyrics and published the song in his first folksong collection "Sju sjömansvisor och Byssan Lull" – "Seven Seaman's Folksongs and Byssan Lull" in 1919. _

_So, why have a Danish prince singing a Swedish song when the two countries were at that time on unfriendly terms? The truth is, after everything that I have put poor Ariel through in Sael, I wanted to have Eric sing something very beautiful, very soothing, and very "Scandinavian" to his future bride. I also wanted something that would prove very special to Ariel, reminding her of her own nature, as well as how Eric sees and adores that aspect of her heart, mind … and soul._

_In my search for something suitable, I found "Byssan Lull," and rationalized that despite the antipathy between the Danes and Swedes in that time, their sailors would have likely exchanged shanties and melodies. It was telling to me that the song was so widespread throughout Sweden, Finland, and Norway, and Eric is in line to the throne of not just Denmark, but Norway as well. As shall be seen, he has some talents aside from singing that haven't yet been revealed._

_Aside from all of this, the richness of the song, its beauty and legacy, as well as the opportunity to honor a country of which I have the fondest memories from my days as a young naval officer, quite simply proved beguiling to me._

* * *

_**Lyrics:**_

_Please see my forums for this information, the particular version of the lyrics that I believe Ms. Bremnes sings, as well as the best translation that I have been able to construct from online sources._

_www fanfiction net/topic/189243/149643819/1/#149643819_

_**Sources:**_

_antiwarsongs ?id=49793&amp;lang=en_

_lyricstranslate (submitted by stjernehimmel_natt)_

_en /wiki/Evert_Taube_

_sv Wikipedia org/wiki/Byssan_lull_

* * *

_**Author's Note 2: **_**_Patterns of Speech and Expression_**

_One of the compromises that I have adopted in all of my stories is approximating the vernacular and patterns of speech that Disney used in the United States release of the movie. _

_Ariel, Eric, and Carlotta, voiced respectively by the amazing Jodi Benson, Christopher Daniel Barnes, and Edie McClurg, speak in what sounds to me exactly like the American "__midwest standard accent," that I grew up with in Ohio. Ariel even famously drops her "g's," (like I do!) much to the annoyance of certain critics. _

_(Have I ever mentioned that I really, really love Ariel?)_

_Of course, the actual characters, Ariel especially it would seem – having not even been born human –would have sounded quite different. Eric would have at least spoken perhaps with the charming hint of a royal Danish accent* and very likely, Grimsby would have sounded more American than modern "proper" English._

_My belief is that by giving the characters of The Little Mermaid such affable patterns of speech and expression, Disney meant to make them approachable by conveying their lack of both imperiousness and narcissism, and to make the viewer feel quite comfortable with them, that were they to ever encounter Ariel, Eric, or Carlotta, that they themselves would be not only accepted, but appreciated by any one of the three. _

_In reality, Eric and Grimsby, Carlotta as well, would have been different, and would have sounded to us much more formal. Ariel would have been endearingly so, but at least a little odd, being essentially self-taught … albeit with the assistance of Archimedes. _

_Thus, in my stories, their words are essentially relative translations into our common modern speech, with an earnest attempt made to refrain from words and expressions that belong distinctly to our age._

_* Had Disney decided to ever, say, assign him to a specific __country__?_

_**Acknowledgments and Credits:**_

_**Cover Art:**__The cover art remains "Ariel" by scarlettiwater deviantart com._

_The link to the original is scarlettiwater deviantart com/art/Ariel-296039838_

_**Creative Contributions:**_ _"Lull" includes references to some of my favorite FanFiction stories about Eric and Ariel. Chief among these are:_

_Of Sunrise and Stories__, __Keep Holding On__, and the __Prince Eric__ series by Crisis Rose_

_Out of the Dark by xSummersx_

_Fallen Angel__ by TardisBlueMermaid_

_The Little Violinist__ by TheQueenieofCourse_

_and …_

_of course the classic __Altered Reality__ by Converse R Life, just … because._

"_Was it someone she knew?" – Hat tip, Converse (wink)_


	22. Chapter 20 - Islands in the Ocean Sea

**Author's Note: **_Not just Eric and Ariel, but a lot of Hans, Carlson, and Gertrud in this chapter._ _Oh, and Grim ... and Max!_

_Good grief, it's been since April 17th since I last posted a chapter to Sael, and not for a lack of effort either. I've busied myself quite a bit on this chapter and am rather happy with the result, though like each of my chapters, it seems to have its own unique feel and structure._

_This was an outgrowth of ideas that will see their conclusion in the following chapter, "Wash Away your Cares," which fortunately, is already well in hand. Hopefully it won't take another two whole months to complete, otherwise I'll never finish Sael before this coming Christmas._

_My best wishes go out to all of my readers who are finishing or have finished their end of school year exams. I'm always happy to see new readers joining from various parts of the world, including of late Russia and Sweden! My best wishes to all of you!_

**_Publication Date: _**_Saturday, June 4th, 2016 (Minor Emendations November 11th, 2016)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 20 – ****Islands in the Ocean Sea**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 17th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 05:30 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

From the silence that had descended upon Ariel's bedchamber, one might have thought that Eric and his princess were alone, this despite the attentions of the five other people and one dog who variously stood, sat, and lay nearby. To each other, though, the two _were _alone, aware only of each other, each having become the other's island of safety and hope, and this was apparent to all present.

* * *

**~ A Most Curious Name ~**

As Eric had lifted Ariel from her bedside and set her gently upon her feet, Aaron Gray had felt it best to once again afford the two what privacy and space was possible without leaving their presence entirely – this in the event his services were still further needed. The balcony beckoned him. At least he might find comfort in its breathtaking vista and its view of Christiansted.

Stepping over to the twin doors, he looked through their latticed glass and out onto the western channel towards Puerto Rico. He let his eyes drift south to the sinking sun that would soon disappear beyond the northwest hills, taking the remains of the day along with it. Silhouetted against the reddening sky and the many small ships upon Gallows Bay, he studied the proud figure of a sleek man-o-war that now lay there at anchor.

Even from this distance he could see that she was a forty-four, probably one of Humphreys, with fine lines that he knew only two ships in the fleet had. Both were in the Mediterranean, or least they had been.

Who was she? _President?_ _Constitution?_ He strained to descry either Washington or Hercules beneath her bowsprit to discern the answer, but at that distance and with the intervening capes it was impossible to descry such fine details.

Even if he had been able to, neither of the famed figureheads then remained, but the officer had no way of knowing that.

Why was she _here_? From whence had she sailed? Was she here just to take on provisions? What news did she carry? What course would she take after she weighed anchor and once again set sail?

A course for home?

As he stood there, his mind consumed with thoughts of the plains, the mighty Missouri, and the coasts of Barbary, his eyes and hand inspected the diaphanous white cloth about the door frames, ensuring that it was fastened securely around the edges against the coming night.

His thoughts returned to Rush's accounts of Philadelphia and the yellow fever that had swept that city a decade before. It had been thought to have originated with a ship from Saint Domingue, now being called _Haiti_ by its new masters. Hispaniola was just over two hundred nautical miles away at its closest point, but fevers were endemic to most of the Indies, and it had been their good fortune that all had for a while seemed to have forgotten their little isle.

The dry weather since the Princess's arrival had spared them the mosquitoes. Was there a connection, or was it indeed just night airs? The officer wondered if the things even ventured that high. Hers was one of the tallest apartments in the Palace, exceeded only by the attics and the heights of the North Towers and the Keep. Thus it stood above the lower airs and the few nighttime mists the isle experienced. When the rains resumed, Gray reminded himself to set and check traps on the palace's exteriors and interiors to see how soon the flies returned. Either way, the results would be worth noting in his journals.

With neither of the Doctors Østerby available to their service, Gray considered the wisdom of vaccinating the Princess against smallpox as the elder Østerby had done, at his insistence, for Eric and the residents of the Christiansborg. Were mermaids immune to human diseases? If so, was she? The thought of the daughter of the Sea King in the throes of the pox filled him with a deep horror and dread. Could it be that her father had extended upon her some proof against such maladies? Was that even in his power? He would have to ask the merman himself when the opportunity presented itself the next morning.

His mind then turned to the strange ill feeling that lingered still within the room, one that he had found to be the most intense as he had held Carlotta Grimaldi's hands and cared for the Princess. Beauclerk's warning of sorcery echoed in his mind.

Sorcery.

Gray considered himself a man of reason, and thus, despite Aubrey's assertions, found his mind casting about for _any _other possible explanation of what he had experienced … was _experiencing_.

_"Irrational nonsense."_ he thought.

Yet … _she _was _real_, and standing right behind him … safe in Eric's arms.

_She _was a _mermaid _

… or at least she had been.

Her father … was _Triton_. The same Triton of Ovid and Homer?

Were _they_ irrational nonsense? Was _she_?

The officer looked down at his right hand extended outward to the curtains. His eyes widened as a look of realization filled them. Drawing it towards himself, he stared at it, turning it, considering the lines of his outstretched palm and hardened fingers in the failing red light, considering wonders such as science and reason could never explain.

Perhaps not as _irrational_ as he had first thought. The past two months had proven a strain on his reason.

The sun dipped beyond the far hills, leaving the cloudless sky behind it awash with a sheen of orange fire tinged with crimson. The officer closed his eyes in a quiet prayer of thanks, then just as swiftly opened them again, returning his mind to those behind him.

As he turned back to the room and raised his eyes, he found himself staring once again into the eyes of Carlotta Grimaldi. For a moment, he saw there only the same questioning suspicion he had seen before he had examined the Princess. Now though, the woman's accusing look quickly softened to something much gentler and kinder. For a moment, he thought of his mother, but quickly directed his mind to other memories.

Aaron wondered if he should feel guilty, having allowed in himself such feelings for the young princess.

_Of course_ he should feel _guilty_. She was _betrothed_ to his _friend_, his best friend, practically his younger brother – aside from the matter of their tremendous difference in rank. So strange the heart was, being so uneasily deterred from entertaining impossibilities.

Was it _love _though? Did he _love her_ or was he _in love_ _with her_? Was there a difference? If he was in love with her, how _could_ he be? Save for that single day, he didn't even _know _her, and she didn't even seem to _remember _him.

For which he breathed a sigh of relief.

Good.

It was better that way, and when he took his leave, he would leave her memory behind as well.

He had _held her_ though, held her in his arms and comforted her when everyone had thought that Eric had chosen another. For a day and a half the staff and guards had mused and gossiped about the mysterious fiery-haired beauty who had so obviously caught the Prince's attention. By that evening, she had clearly captured his heart as well, and it might have well have been by enchantment – so swift and so sure had it come to pass.

Everyone who had encountered her, though, could clearly see why the Prince was smitten.

Well … at least Aaron could.

When they had returned from their day together, the maiden and the Prince had been inseparable. Eric's eyes, though, had seemed troubled in a way that had struck Aaron as odd. It had taken the full force of Carlotta's motherly determination to pull the two apart and get the shivering wet girl and her equally wet beau into hot baths. Separate hot baths … at opposite ends of the Christiansborg.

Thus, there hadn't been a soul in the palace that hadn't been shocked that next morning when Eric had produced a mysterious, beautiful brunette … and insisted that they be wedded by sunset that evening.

If the strange appearance of Lady Vanessa hadn't created enough confusion and concern among the palace staff, then the sudden _disappearance_ of their young guest had. It had been in the middle of the morning that Carlotta had come to him, deeply upset. Their guest, whose name they had learned from Eric the prior night was "Ariel" – had gone missing.

Carlotta had been beside herself, refusing to take part in the preparations for the wedding, not just for the sake of Eric, but also that of the missing young maiden whom she had obviously taken a great liking to … and obviously had in mind as a match for the young Prince.

Arranging the bodyguard for the wedding had consumed most of the officer's morning, but once Lundgren and Dahl had taken up their tasks, there was little more for Gray to do other than periodically assess their progress. He finally had found time to search for her. His relief had been immense when Lundgren had informed him that she had been seen lingering upon the dock beneath the Eastern Quay.

Despite his many years in uniform and at sea, nothing could have prepared Gray for what had transpired that eve, for what he had seen.

_Ursula._

The Princess's _"Witch"_ … a _Sea Witch_.

How odd that _it_ …_ that thing, _should share a name with a martyred saint, the same for whom Columbus had named these very Isles, for her … and her eleven-thousand slain virgins. Such a curious name for a Sea Witch.

He would have instead expected _Morgana_.

* * *

**~ Beyond Us ... In Our Hearts ~**

Hans Sael wished that Henrik Knudsen had been there to hear the gentle, loving words that their maiden of the sea had spoken, wished that he could have heard _how_ she had spoken to Eric, and he in return to her.

_"Lass couldna' ha' better said her love than tha."_ he thought, not wanting to disturb the quiet beauty of the moment he was now witnessing. He wished that his Third Mate could see now how their princess _clung_ to her prince, how the two clung to _each other_.

As he watched, he remembered Kathrine's first gentle touch. It had been upon his right arm, her slender fingers slipped up into the sleeve beneath his dress jacket, playing there with the soft hair she had found. She had always taken such delight in that, his hair. Hans smiled.

Then his memories returned to his little Elna, how fascinated she too had been with the hair on his arms, just like her mother, and later that on his chest when he had held her there and tossed her up and down in the firelight when she had been but a babe. Years later he had held her there against his chest when the fever had seized her, when she had been eight, and she had clung to him, just as her mother had so many times before.

He had been at sea when the fire had taken them, and had returned that spring to find their little white-washed house a charred ruin. It had taken him days simply to learn what had happened. There had been no graves after the fire, no bodies. He had nothing to remember them by, save the memories of their fingers at play in the soft red hair of his arms, chest, and head. There were other fond memories of course; but how strange it was, though, that those two stood out so clearly in his mind.

His hand went to his eyes. A shameful thing it was, to shed tears. He wouldn't. He should be happy for young Eric and his princess in their new life together, yet the wetness that stained his cheeks stubbornly remained.

At the tips of his left hand's fingers he felt a touch, then a soft warmth. Looking up he saw Elise's blue eyes staring into his own. They looked so sad to him, those eyes, or was it just his own pain that he saw reflected therein? A little smile played at her lips, as though she was asking his if he was troubled.

As she had watched Eric and their mermaid princess, Gertrude Elise soon found that she could watch no longer. Her heart was overcome with a sudden unexpected ache, and a sense of loss, of dread, flooded into her soul.

Had she really thought that Eric could have ever wanted _her_, a mere commoner, as much as he wanted this breathtaking young princess? Her father's military rank notwithstanding, Gertrude lay as low beneath Eric as the earth beneath the stars. There would be no princes in her future.

As she looked up, seeking something, anything else to look upon other than them, other than _him_, her eyes came to rest upon Hans. She saw his hand dart to his own eyes, saw his fingers dab at and whisk away what could only be tears, tears like the ones she wouldn't allow herself to shed.

Why would he be _crying_?

There was only one reason that she had ever seen him shed tears, and upon that realization she knew that she had lost the battle in her own heart, and felt the warm water welling at her lower eyelids, felt the first tear run down her cheek. She stepped over to the old man, reaching out, taking his trembling hand into her own. She smiled hesitantly at him. It helped, giving comfort to her father's friend, her own friend who had so often before comforted her.

The young woman raised her arms, wrapping them around the old fellow, wanting simply to ease his pain. Her own aching heart felt its pain eased in being there for someone other than herself, in being there for him.

Neither said a word, but as Gertrude slipped her slender arms and hands around Hans' chest he slid his arms around hers.

When he felt her first silent quaking sob, Hans could only begin to wonder why she too was crying. Was she crying for him?

_"Girls. Women-folk."_ he thought, a lightness welling up in his heart.

Such strangely beautiful creatures, so delicate and deep in their feelings and sensitivities. It touched him, moved him, the thought that Elise might be crying for him. He wondered, though, if there were more. He remembered how often Elna's tears had been for some _boy_, and how fragile her heart had been in such matters. If that were the case now, for what boy could Elise's heart possibly be aching?

It didn't take Hans long to arrive at the answer, not as he watched Eric and their mermaid princess caught up in each other's arms. It was the sort of loving embrace that a man might never wish to leave, not in his heart at least.

_"Oh, the lass. Lor' bless her, bu' bless them two as well."_ he thought, then realized that had anyone been able to hear his thoughts, they might have thought him to be praying.

Perhaps he was.

* * *

**~ A Companion for a Former Mermaid ~**

As the others in the room either watched what transpired before them between Eric and his princess, or seemed to turn inward to their own feelings and thoughts, Aubrey Beauclerk found himself instead caught in the study of each of them as well as the faint lingering hint of brimstone about the girl. That sensation, that scent, was now hardly there at all, at the very least much less potent than he had first felt it. As the old Lord watched his boy and their young lady, he found his thoughts drawn to them.

More than anything else Grimsby had long dreamt of a princess for his Eric, one who would take his boy's breath away, one who would love him as the old Lord and Carlotta did, a woman who would be to their son not just a princess, but the most devoted and loving of all possible friends and wives. Someday their diminutive mermaid would bear Eric a child, hopefully many children, God willing, and in so doing greatly increase all of their happinesses. There would be an heir, and she and Eric would have a child to love.

… _Children_.

The thought made the old courtier smile.

As a student of human nature, the old Lord Grimsby had observed many men and many women during his long life. He had lived, loved … and lost. _All of them had. _Carlotta, Eric, little Ariel, Captain Larsen's daughter, even the enigmatic American. He wondered as he studied Hans and Gertrude Elise caught up in their own embrace, if the old sailor too had so suffered. In all the years he had known the good fellow from their occasional voyages together, he had never gotten to actually know him, not as Eric did, yet he knew the boy thought of the other man as something of a father figure. Perhaps the young princess might come to as well.

A mermaid. Good heavens.

_A mermaid!_

A clever smile teased its way across the old Lord's face. Indeed as they said, there were many fish in the sea, but never, never had he imagined that his boy's future wife would be quite literally – a fish. Well, _half-fish_ he mused to himself … but oh, such a _delight_.

_"What human princess could be her equal?"_ he mused.

It must be so very hard for her, he thought, looking upon them as he felt the warmth growing in his heart, seeing how she nestled herself into his Eric's embrace, how they clung to each other. After all of their adventures together, the old man had to commend Eric, the boy had been _right_.

_Like lightning._

Even if old Grimsby had even entertained the thought when Eric had first offered it, he would have failed to consider that lightning seldom strikes one man alone. He cast a sidelong glance to Gray and then to Carlotta, noticing that her eyes too were directed not to Eric and Ariel, but instead to the Lieutenant.

Poor Carlotta, he thought, hoping that evening he could soothe her pain and fears as he so often had in the past, when the evenings had grown dark and the palace quiet. It was all becoming too much for her, overseeing the affairs of the Household while also becoming a mother to their beloved new guest. Their homesick little mermaid would need someone to look after and help her, to keep her company when Eric was unable to, as would be increasingly the case if the Crown's writ were to once again be asserted over the denizens of the Isles, most especially the treacherous planters, the Governor, and his Privy Council.

Even in the couple's present embrace he could see the Princess's nature – unassuming, giving, guileless, moved only by her love for Eric and her intense desire to be a part of his world, _their_ world. There was no mistaking though that her love was, above all, for Eric.

Then his thoughts returned to Hans and Miss Larsen.

_Gertrude Elise._

Carlotta had spoken to him often of late about her. Though she was a commoner, her father held some small lands in Denmark that his wife Lene had inherited from her father, a minor nobleman from Odense. Like her mother, the young woman was elegant, lettered, and quite lovely, and not too distant in age from the Princess as to put the two apart. Perhaps he might suggest that rather than having her serve merely as the Princess's maid that she might serve instead as her _Companion_? He would have to discuss the matter with Carlotta to see how the two young women got along, but knowing both of them, the old Lord couldn't imagine it anything other than a fine pairing.

And this Master _Hans Sael_. What of him? He seemed a trustworthy fellow and had clearly demonstrated an uncommon concern for their young princess. He was well known and admired, and seemed to have the young lady's trust as well, at least from how she had reacted to him on the quay and here in her room earlier with the leeches. The sailor had resisted and for a while even defied Østerby's power. That would be worth something if ever the miscreant returned for the girl. He had been so right about mermaids too, much to Beauclerk's embarrassment and amazement. Surely, there must be a place close to this young former mermaid for the man?

He let his eyes and thoughts return to Eric and the princess, and found himself hardly able to contain his happiness at seeing Ariel's love and adoration for Eric. At the same time he hoped and knew that Eric would in turn do everything to deserve _her_.

It had been long apparent, though, that Eric's feelings for the girl were every bit as intense as hers were for him.

* * *

**~ The Sadness in His Eyes ~**

Carlotta Grimaldi looked on as Eric had brought Ariel to her feet. A little part of her conscience stewed still at her odd worries about the Captain, whom she now noticed had withdrawn from the two lovers in their midst, retreating once again to the balcony doors. Perhaps she owed him an explanation, maybe an apology? Despite her concerns, he had been a perfect gentleman, especially being so considerate of her own sensibilities regarding the propriety of strange men touching a young lady, let alone Eric's betrothed, in such intimate places.

As she watched the officer, he turned back and away from the doors, his eyes alighting upon Ariel and Eric, Hans and Gertrude, then Grimsby and her. His eyes were strangely downcast, and held hers for a moment.

As before, when he had earlier closed the door to the Princess's bedchamber, she recognized that look. She had seen it before, the unmistakable sadness that filled his eyes and suffused his countenance. It was a look of loss and despair, one that she had many times seen on the face of another young man, a certain young prince, most recently just two months ago after he had mysteriously returned to them from seeming death, this before a certain young lady had too washed up upon that same shore, and changed their lives forever.

There could be only one reason for such a countenance on the man and the feelings and sentiments that lay beneath it. She had experience with unrequited love, impossible love, and she knew how it must end.

Carlotta felt regret at her suspicions of the man, that she might have embarrassed him. If he was in love with the Princess, could she really blame him, especially if his conduct had been impeccable despite such feelings? Who in the palace didn't already adore her? Among the girls and women, who didn't envy her … even just a little?

Maybe a kind word and a motherly talk would help more than baseless suspicions and fears of a man who had saved the lives of everyone in the room around her, including the girl for whom his heart was obviously now breaking.

* * *

**~ An Overwhelming Tide ~**

It was still simply too impossible for Eric to believe. Yet it was true. She was there in _his_ arms, standing fast up against him … the youngest daughter of the King of the Seas himself. Ariel felt so soft, so warm, so delicate, yet she had proven herself so determined to be with him, to be a part of his world just as she had insisted from the very beginning of their life together. Her words to him had seemed so _emphatic_, so beyond debate, despite the quiet and gentle way by which she had said them.

A mermaid.

For as many times the two had before embraced and kissed, the gentleness with which Ariel now nestled her diminutive form against his filled Eric's heart with a deep and abiding ache. There was no other word for it, this upwelling in his chest, but that plain word failed to adequately describe the totality of his feelings for her in that instant, the overwhelming tide of loving protectiveness that he felt for her. No other person in his life had ever stirred in him such a feeling, such a desire, such a _need_, to make her life fulfilling, to fill her heart and soul with pure joy.

She seemed to him then so vulnerable, as if she were surrendering her life to him, giving herself and her life to him completely and fully, trusting that he would care for her, trusting in him unquestioningly Triton's daughter had left her entire world behind to be with him … to be _his_ … and _his alone_.

_His mermaid._

What sacrifice on his part could possibly equal that which she had made, that which she offered him?

_… Herself. _

How many loves in all of the story of the world, he wondered, had been equal to what hers must be for him?

Ever since he had set eyes upon her that evening in the Dining Hall, part of his heart had known that he would have done_ anything_ for her, even as conflicted as it had then been. Just one Wednesday in early October, from dawn to dusk it had taken him to fall for her, just one perfect day in Printsensbakke and the countryside beyond it had taken for her to forever capture his heart.

Once again he drew his hand up her silken back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine, letting his fingers slip beneath the dangling ends of her long, soft tresses. They brushed against and caressed the back of his hand as he kneaded the smooth skin and soft muscles that his fingers found hidden there beneath the neckline of her pale blue dress.

Eric took his time in so doing, feeling how his little mermaid eased herself into him, how she wrapped her arms around him like she would never let go. He felt her fingernails through the back of his shirt, tugging at it ever so slightly … _claiming_ him.

How he loved it when she did so, and he wanted to be every bit as much _hers _as she wanted to be _his_.

Just the thought, the _feeling_ of how much his little mermaid _wanted _him caused Eric's heart to swell, and in it stirred the same fierce protectiveness he had found in himself the evening of their third day together. He wanted her just as fiercely, and he would do anything to keep her, to preserve her, to make possible her happiness.

Henrik be damned. _Østerby be damned._

Five months from now was _too long_ to wait, too long to finally hold her in his arms as his _wife_.

Though he had pondered his fate now countless times since he had awakened upon the shore only to then see her rising out of the sea before him, Eric once again found himself wondering why _he_ had been so blessed. He still was a young prince, a young man, but ever since his mother had perished he had dreamt that there would be someone, someone for him, someone who would want him above all others

… because of what he _thought_, because of what he _felt_, because of _how_ he thought and felt.

He had dreamt of someone who would want him because of _how _he was … not _who_.

Being, aside from his rank, a rather normal young man, he had dreamt of _her_ as being beautiful of course, but also he had dreamt of her as being kind and clever, adventurous, and possessed of gentle and loving heart. He had wondered if there were any girl who would share his sense of wonder at the world, his love of the sea, and he had known that if he found her he would have realized it in the very same instant.

And then he _had _found her.

He stopped and smiled to himself. "_No_." _She had found him_. It never took him long to remember that one little all-important _fact_, that she had risked her life, risked _everything_ just to save him, a strange man that she didn't even know, a human no less.

He had always told himself that when he found her, his love for her would have struck him like lightning.

He had never imagined the storm that might follow.

* * *

**~ Every Dream … Save for One ~**

Eric's fingers, his gentle touch, soothed her as she stood there against him, her heart beating softly in her breast. She could feel Eric's heart close by and listened, felt, as their palpitations drew ever closer until it seemed that they had but one heart shared between them, its beat strong and inseparable. Never before had she felt that, that … _sensation_, of being so much a part of him, so _one_ with him. She wanted for that moment never to end.

At last though, as Eric's breath played in her tresses and the cool breeze from the sea played about her feet, the flutterings of their hearts finally began to draw apart. The clock outside her room ticked away its steady cadence, counting off the remaining moments of the day, counting away the fleeting beats of their lives.

Ariel didn't want that moment to end, for she knew that when it did, Henrik Knudsen would be waiting for her, ready to destroy everything, ready to rip her away from Eric. She knew that Eric wouldn't let him, that she was safe in her love's arms. They and their dreams of life together were safe, but her fear remained.

For a few of those soft ticks she felt a sadness, a sadness that a moment of such sublime unity between her and Eric had passed, until she realized that he still drew his breath in time with her own, as though he was breathing for her. She smiled and nuzzled herself against him, waiting for him to breathe once again, whereupon she too drew into herself the cool fresh air of the human world.

It was calming to her, breathing as one with him.

_He_ was calming to her.

Ariel drew her left cheek against Eric's neck, then turning her face, did the same with her right cheek, tracing the line of his neck with her little nose, inhaling his scent, her eyes closed. She found there the fine roughness that the day had imparted upon him since he had last trimmed his hair. Humans had a word for it that she sought but couldn't remember, _"Sha … shay … shafe?"_

It wasn't altogether unpleasant, that roughness, maybe a little, but sometimes she liked how it made Eric look, and how it made her _feel._ There weren't any words for that feeling, at least that she knew of, though saying that it made her feel like she was blushing seemed close. Still, it wasn't the same. She had been wanting to ask Carlotta about it.

Something pressed down into the soft hair atop her head, as Eric's lips descended through it in a kiss. In reply, she lifted her own lips to his neck, then to his cheek, whispering soft kisses upon them.

She felt his lips drift downward, at first to her temple, then to her forehead, then to her own damp cheek, until finally they alighted on the tip of her nose before they brushed downward against her own and the two joined, his lips drawing hers into a soft, wet union.

How was it that he could be so soft, so gentle with her, treating her with such love and tenderness, when she knew what he was like in his wrath? She let the thought go. She was _his_, and he was _hers_, or they soon would be.

_"What will it be like?"_ she wondered, finding herself once again so anxious for that day when she would gain a share in his soul, when she and he would become forever one. The thought of it made her blush, or something akin to it.

She remembered her mother's first stories to her about humans, how they, unlike her own people, were blessed with immortal souls, and how these upon death passed invisibly beyond the circles of the world, returning to the One.

After her mother had died, had become nothing but bloody foam upon the waves, she had dreamt ever more of somehow gaining a human soul, of gaining a share in their world, of escaping her mother's fate, even while she had dreaded forever losing her father and sisters. Despite the enormity of three hundred years, death must eventually come for each of them.

Never could she have foreseen such a moment as this though, never have imagined such a love as the one in which she was now caught. Everything that she had ever done, her adventures, her explorations, all failed in comparison to this, failed in comparison to being here right now, in his arms.

She wanted it never to end.

And then it came to her, the realization that she was human, that she was living in the human world, _her _new world, standing in the arms of her true love.

Every dream that she had ever had had come true, all save for one.

Maybe the human god listened to mermaids' prayers after all.

* * *

**~ The Special Preserve of Fathers ~**

At least ten years had passed since Hans had felt the touch of a woman other than the young princess before him, much less so loving an embrace. He didn't wish to admit to himself how much he missed such tenderness, the feeling that he was still noticed, appreciated … wanted. Strong men didn't have such feelings, such needs. That it was little Gertrude Elise, his little plum who had always reminded him so of Elna, now grown up into such a breathtaking young woman, filled him with a special joy that was normally the special preserve of proud fathers and dearest uncles. How often do the kindnesses one sows out of a loving heart throughout one's life bear in return such unexpected and welcome fruits?

He had thought that he would never again feel such a sense of being loved, never thought that he would have anyone care for or appreciate him. Perhaps that was why he felt so strongly for the young princess, for in his bones he already knew that she would. There was a part inside him of which he could never bring himself to think or speak, that dark pit in his soul into which he had cast as much of his pain as he could find, and to which he had tried so hard to throw away the key. He hated feeling, remembering the sight of their little house, the ashes, the mud and ruin that had swept through it once it had burned. He hated that he had cried like a little boy, screaming and cursing the Almighty that it shouldn't be so.

Yet it was.

He wrapped his arms about her ever more tightly, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting the girl in his embrace to hurt anymore for having lost a love that she could have never had. There were happier fates ahead for her. At least, he hoped there were.

* * *

**~ On the Contrary Tides of Feeling ~**

As she felt Hans embrace tighten, the young maid held onto the old fellow even tighter, remembering how he had always bounced her on his knee and told her tales of kingdoms beneath the sea, strange ships full of ghosts, and faerie lands beyond the sunset. She recalled floating isles, sunken kingdoms lost beneath the waves, and of old folk who lived now only as myths and legends.

When her father had been too busy, Hans Sael had been her widest window onto a larger world. He had always made time for her, and like her father, had brought her presents from the far off lands and ports into which his ships had made call. And even though his calls on her father had been almost always for business, he had always made time during them for her.

Now she would make time for him, stealing it away from the bits of pottery dotting the bedchamber floor.

She wondered how it must look to the others around her, to be caught up in an embrace with a man old enough to be her grandfather. It made her feel guilty, awful, that she was comforting Hans when in fact, she only wished to flee the room. She shouldn't feel that way. She found their new princess fascinating, and she had always loved Eric. But that was the problem, wasn't it? This wasn't supposed to be about her, or her feelings. It was about Hans, poor Hans; and she told herself that so many times as he held her and she held him – that she almost believed it.

Hans felt Gertrud shift slightly in his embrace and wondered if she was uncomfortable. He had gone from the one being comforted to the one doing the comforting, though their embrace still held much of both. To his surprise, that proved the best medicine his long ago broken heart could have received.

He remembered his little Elna, and now Elise, and it felt good and right, holding and rocking her. He was no prince, but he was a father, and even if Elise wasn't his own daughter, it made him feel strong and proud that he was able to be there for her. In the gentlest way that he knew how, he patted the girl on her back, whereupon he thought he might have felt the softest of sobs escape her lips, one that echoed in her diminutive chest.

* * *

**~ Back to Potsherds ~**

Time seemed to get lost as Elise stood there, the clock ticking away in the Gallery beyond the doors. It gradually occurred to her that she had a job to do, and that hiding in Hans' arms wasn't the best way to go about it.

Raising her eyes, Gertrud saw her old friend and weaver of sea stories smiling at her, his eyes glistening with a look in them asking perhaps if _she_ was all right, if she were indeed _ready to go_. She smiled in return, feeling the old man's right hand laid protectively on her right shoulder, his arm wrapped around her. She nodded, never ceasing to smile softly at him. How had this become _him_ comforting _her_?!

Hans had always had that knack, a tenderness with his wife and daughter, and then her and the few other women who had come and gone in his long life. Or was it simply that she had always known that she could and would always find care and comfort in his arms? She had to suppress a giggle as she wiped the tears from her eyes. At least he was smiling and looked as happy as she now felt.

Well. _Good then_. She had succeeded. A job well done!

She ought to get back to the job she was being given room and board to do … and paid!

As Gertrude drew back, Hans let her arms slip out from around his torso, smiling at her and looking back across the room to Eric and Ariel. That was a glance that the girl decided she would rather not cast herself. Instead, her eyes returned to the floor, looking for bits of white and blue porcelain against the dais of polished Danish walnut upon which the princess's bed stood, and beyond its edge to the azure rug that surrounded the bed's bottom three sides.

The deepening shadows that crept across the room and its floor made the task difficult, and now that the sun had set, that time of evening when the sky was still too light for candles and lanterns to dispel the deepening shadows was at hand. She let out a quiet sigh.

Whatever had shattered on the floor had flown everywhere, and in every which way. She had found small pieces everywhere. She had found pottery shards near the room's double doors, near the inner hearth beside the princess's bed, and even in the sitting area between the entrances to her closet and bath, but nothing large. All together, they didn't seem enough to make a single piece of pottery.

Looking about, she cast her eyes across the floor toward Carlotta, and then to her left and Lord Grimsby, who stood behind the Housekeeper, curiously holding the matron's hands in his own as the two watched the young couple standing just an arm's length before them. The Captain stood back away from the bed before the twin doors of the balcony, looking outward. His shoulders seemed strangely fallen. It bothered Elise. He normally carried himself so much straighter and taller, and it seemed sad to her to see such a handsome man so crestfallen.

_"Is he sad too?"_ she wondered to herself.

A shape caught the corner of her eye, protruding slightly from beneath the bottom corner of the princess's bed where it stood out, incongruous with the hanging silken cloth of the bed skirt.

_"That doesn't belong there. Did I drop something earlier?"_ she wondered.

Kneeling down, she lifted the bed skirt a hand's width to reveal what looked like a jar – a broken jar. The young maid smiled. She had found it! Reaching around slowly so as not to cut herself, she sought for a handle, but found none. Instead sharp little stumps remained in several places that proved of no help at all. Letting out a breath in slight exasperation, she slipped her hand over its edge and was surprised to find it moist and cool on the inside. _Damp._ Perhaps Carlotta had dropped the tea when the princess had fallen?

Drawing the jar out from beneath the bed and gathering it into her left hand, Gertrud stood and began to carry it from the room when she noticed something odd about the back of her right hand. Lifting it to look, her eyes grew wide and her pretty lips opened as she realized that something dark was attached to it

… finger-like_ somethings_ that pulsed and throbbed in the lurid light of the failing day.

Elise's scream tore through her and shattered the silence of the room as she reeled backwards into Hans, eliciting sympathetic screams from both Ariel and Carlotta while Aubrey Beauclerk leapt forward to place himself between the matron and Elise. Carlson spun about at the balcony, his hand darting to his sword as he strode across the room.

Elise held her hand up its back facing her as the remains of the jar flew from her left hand, seeming to arc along a lazy shadowed curve through the deepening red light. With a sharp, pregnant crash, it struck the floorboards in the sitting area, splashing its wet, squirming contents across the bedchamber floor. Water and hungry black shapes spilled out and onto the blue carpet.

Ariel buried herself into Eric's chest, screaming and clutching at him again as her moment of peace came to an abrupt, terrifying end. Eric tightened his embrace about her and spun her away from the new threat. He could feel the former mermaid trembling in his arms as he looked back to see what had happened.

It was Gertrude, Matthias Larsen's daughter, the pretty young maid whom Carlotta, Grimsby, and he had all been hoping Ariel would take a liking to and maybe befriend. She was reeling, screaming hysterically as though something was attacking her. She held her right hand out at the wrist with her left as far from herself as she could, as though it were on fire.

Grimsby's free hand went to his chest, clutching at it as he turned, his mouth agape at the young maid.

Hans caught the young woman as she fell backwards into him, but had no idea of what had terrified her so.

In a moment, Carlson was at their side.

A shaggy figure darted out from beneath the bed skirt, chasing after something in the sitting area with a low, snarling _"ruff."_

* * *

**~ A Dish Best Served Cold ... and Slimy ~**

Max had been growing hungrier and hungrier throughout the afternoon, and had been disappointed when at least some of the treats that the Woman with Treats had brought hadn't made it into his tummy.

All slights were forgiven though now that a quick snack availed. How was it that he hadn't smelled the delicious food that had lain on the floor just a length from him?

Well, no matter.

Across the room he loped, falling upon and gobbling up the first squirming, wriggling thing he found, some kind of worm he guessed, and one that smelled and looked like a delicious and savory treat. Drowning it momentarily in the saliva of his formidable tongue, the sheepdog chomped down, smashing it between his teeth, and was rewarded with a rich meaty flavor, if admittedly just a bit slimy. It wiggled for a moment inside his mouth as he sniffed out and found another, and so it went, instant after instant of cold culinary revenge for hurting the Girl with Flowers and the Girl from the Sea.

Revenge was sweet … and tasty.

Almost as good as raw, slimy, wriggling bacon.

* * *

**~ A Wonderful Way with People ~**

Eric felt his stomach turn as he watched his dog, feeling an admixture of nausea and embarrassment. Aaron, he saw, was doing the very same with Gertrud, keeping her distracted from Max's antics to her right.

The initial shock having passed, Ariel peeked out from over the side of Eric's right shoulder, watching with wide, frightened eyes as the Captain and Master Hans went to the human girl's side. Why was Gertrude so upset? What had happened to her?

_What was Max doing?_

_"Eric, what's happening? Is she all righ_t?" she half-whispered, now more concerned for the older girl than herself, her eyes darting back and forth between the panicked young woman and the dog who darted to and fro across her bedchamber's far side.

"I don't know, love. Don't worry though; whatever it is, Hans and Aaron will take care of her." he soothed, caressing the back of her neck as he did so. "Hans, Aaron," he continued, "Is she hurt?"

_"Who is Aaron?"_ Ariel wondered. The _Captain_? But she had always heard her love call him "Derek." There was so much that she didn't understand about humans, and it seemed increasingly overwhelming to her.

"Looks li' the lass came across some o' them leeches Eric." the old sailor replied as he held the girl and took her right hand into his own."

_"Leeches!" _Ariel thought as she cringed. Her stomach twisted and churned once again at the mention of the awful things, not _Ner _… not _lam _… _lampreys_, but still awful and sickening.

What was Max … _doing_?

Eric felt Ariel shrink in his arms, her hand darting away from his back. Looking down, he saw that she was touching her neck.

"Miss Larsen, may I look?" Carlson asked the young maid.

She nodded with a quiet whimper, her frightened eyes looking up at him for a moment for reassurance before fixating once again upon her outstretched hand. She felt the comfort of Hans' arms holding her, just as they had when she was a young girl.

"Easy _lass_. 'Twill be fine. Cap'n, he'll get 'em off 'ye. Don' be scared."

Carlson took the girl's right hand into his own.

"Two … no … _three_ of them." he said looking first to Hans then back to Eric and Ariel. "Mistress Carlotta, would you bring me two of those napkins?" he asked, looking over beyond the princess and towards her night stand.

Grimaldi nodded and began to rise, but to everyone's surprise, Ariel turned away from Eric, and being closest to the nightstand, gathered a pair of napkins into her hands. Turning back to Eric, she looked up into his eyes, pleading with him.

As he studied her, Eric saw Ariel cast her glance over to Gertrude and the two men who now surrounded her. He felt a tremendous warmth in his heart that his little mermaid was so worried for the other woman that she seemed to nearly have forgotten her own fears.

_"All right."_ he said, his voice quiet and soft, barely rising over the sea breeze and rippling of the balcony draperies. _"Are you ready?"_ he asked.

Ariel nodded in reply, turning her head once again to look over Eric's shoulder at Gertrude and the two men who were trying to quell her terror.

"They're coming Captain." she said. "Don't worry Elise."

The Captain looked over to her, a curious look dawning in his eyes in the dimming daylight.

Eric, for his part, was stunned. Ariel knew Gertrud's favorite name? How much and how often had the two been _talking_? Obviously they must have been over the past weeks for the young woman to have shared such a personal preference with his princess. He himself only knew of it because of his earlier curiosity about the young maid and how he and Carlotta had spoken of the girl.

Ariel had such a wonderful way with people that brought out the best in them, one that naturally caught so many she met up in a happy trust and adoration of her, all save for Knudsen that is, and those it seemed who took heed of his opinions.

Eric looked out toward the gallery, remembering the grandfather clock. As he had flown by its hour and minute hands had stood seemingly motionless, their filigreed silver arrows denoting four thirty eight in the afternoon. That had been an hour ago, at least.

_Evening. _

The sun had set and what time was left to fix the mess that this day had become was wasting. Time was now of the essence, but he wouldn't further rush his love when this day so far had proven so cruel to her.

Instead, Eric wanted to kiss his little mermaid. Of course, he had actually been kissing her quite a lot since that morning and was thoroughly enjoying getting away with it in Carlotta's presence. Even old Grim hadn't objected. Maybe he had seen how much it had quelled her fears and calmed her? Eric loved that he was able to do that for Ariel, and things were already better. She was back on her feet, standing, and far calmer than she had been just half an hour before.

He was so _proud_ of her

… and so _in love_ with her.

Her gentle kindness and concern for others had always struck Eric as Ariel's most breathtaking quality, this beyond her quiet intelligence and striking beauty. Even now, after everything she had suffered since that morning, she was more concerned about the well-being of her young maid than her own.

This quality of hers filled the prince's heart with an inexplicable joy, a joy he found hopelessly difficult to explain, and for which the words had always proven elusive, even to himself. He loved this aspect of her heart, her selflessness and courage on behalf of others, and never ceased to imagine how beloved she might someday be by his people as their princess.

Sometimes, though, it worried him that she seemed so heedless of her own safety. It was as though she simply didn't realize the dangers, what could go wrong, that she could sometimes be hurt, or worse. Of course he knew that in most cases, she actually _didn't_.

Looking down into her eyes, the prince placed a quick peck on her forehead. "A little step to your right, Princess." he offered, his lips turning slightly in a playful smile as he teased his love with the title to which she had always seemed so indifferent.

Ariel looked up into his eyes, trying to read the meaning given his unexpected tone of voice. What she found written in them was concern, concern and slight mirth that surprised her. From the way that his eyes darted from her to the young maid and back again, that care was for _her_, but also for Gertrude Elise.

_"If she likes 'Elise' so much more, then why doesn't she call herself by that instead?" _she wondered as she concentrated on encouraging her foot to move. Ariel nodded back to her fiancé, lifting her right toes first, then the rest of her foot in a halting, uncertain motion, and stepped towards the young maid.

_"Please don't let me fall."_ she begged softly as she leaned into her first step.

"Ariel … I will _never _let you fall." he replied, giving her a gentle squeeze that despite the presence of the others in the room, only she and Eric would ever know of.

His words and sweet gesture made Ariel blush and smile as she watched her toes slip out from beneath her white petticoats and the hem of her dress to touch the polished wood beneath her.

_"Underthings."_ she thought to herself, wondering what made the difference between an _underthing_ and an _unmentionable_.

_"Are my petticoats underthings? They aren't really 'underthings' if they are showing, are they? Are stockings? They cover my legs beneath my dresses and skirts when I'm wearing them, but they still show my toes and even sometimes my feet."_ she continued wondering to herself as her foot touched and settled upon the floor. Human concepts and especially customs and rules were sometimes so difficult to understand, just like human names. As usual, she would have to ask Carlotta when they were alone together again – if she remembered that is.

_"You'll be all right."_ Eric reassured her, snapping her mind back to her immediate situation. He watched her with care as she took her first step in his arms. Her body wavered slightly.

Carlotta and Grimsby, their eyes until now fixated on what was happening with Gertrude, noticed Ariel's approach. Beauclerk took the Housekeeper's hands into his own and helped her up from her seat. The pair looked on at Eric and his princess as Eric helped Ariel across the bedchamber to the young maid.

Ariel glanced over to Carlotta.

It seemed to Carlotta that the girl was looking to her for … what? Reassurance? Or was it affirmation? The woman immediately decided it was the latter, and offered the girl a sweet smile of approval, along with a nod to tell her that not only was she doing the right thing, but that it would turn out all right.

Ariel smiled softly in return, before returning her eyes to the young woman before her, whereupon a look or worry and more than a little trepidation filled her eyes. Her smile faded as Eric accompanied her, step for step.

As the two came to the edge of the dais, Ariel halted, trying to remember how to step _down_. The height, the distance to the carpeted floor below, was less than a hand-width, yet she hovered there, staring at it, a sudden panic and spinning sensation enveloping her as she fixated upon that little dip.

As a mermaid she would never have noticed such a small distance. Even as a human, negotiating such obstacles had seemed so _trivial _before. Why was it so hard now to remember how? Why was it so hard now to even move her slender legs? She felt tears and had to stifle a threatening sob, but instead looked up at Eric, embarrassed at her seeming inability to do even the simplest human things.

"Just a little step down." he replied to her silent pleading. He tightened his grip around her waist, and raising his right leg, nudged hers forward with it so that it slipped over the edge of the dais. The shift left her off balance, her slight weight supported mostly by Eric's grip about her waist.

_"Eric?!"_

She let out a little gasp and clutched at him, looking first at the floor, then to Gertrude and the two men beside the girl, before looking back up to Eric and realizing that he held her suspended in the air. She felt her toes and the feet dangling for an instant before they settled into the soft azure carpet below.

"Don't worry love, _I've got you_." he smiled again. _"I promise."_

Looking down at the floor, then up to Eric's hands about her waist, Ariel let her eyes return to his. She couldn't help but feel a sense of what she could only describe as safety,_ comfort, _when she saw his love for her manifested therein, in eyes as blue as the sky on the first day she had ever looked upon his world.

The former mermaid smiled back at him before her smile faded once again, then she took a step forward with her right foot, then followed it with one with her left. In three halting steps, she and Eric too were at Elise's side.

As she looked up she was surprised to see both Captain Carlson's and Hans' eyes following her. Elise's right wrist was now caught in the Captain's, while the girl herself was being held by Master Sael, her eyes closed and tears running down her face.

"Thank you, Princess." Carlson said, taking the napkins from her hand, and handing them to Hans.

"Is she all right Aaron?" Eric asked.

"Yes." Carlson nodded. "Our young lady will be fine."

Elise's mind caught on the word despite her closed eyes. The Captain had referred to her as a _lady_, but she wasn't. Well, she _tried_ to be, at least in comportment, but she wasn't a _Lady, _not a woman of _rank_, of the nobility. Her father could barely be considered gentry, and she had to work simply to support herself independent of her father.

Ariel's free right hand slowly drifted to her own throat as the officer adjusted his hold on the maid's wrist and prepared to remove the creatures that had attached themselves to her hand. The former mermaid looked at them, her tummy beginning to turn and twist again at the sickly undulating movements of their slender thickening forms as they drew the girl's blood from her veins.

_"Sarnalavir."_ she thought, even though she knew now that they weren't.

Ariel really didn't want to look, but she found her curiosity now hopelessly piqued. She felt Eric adjust his grip around her waist until he once again held her in a soft, reassuring embrace. _"He won't let me fall." _she thought to herself, smiling, and nestled affectionately against him, taking the moment of welcome comfort to look up at Carlson.

Carlson noted her interest with a confident smile, then returned his attention to the young maid.

"Not to worry Miss Larsen, we'll have them off in a moment." he said in a soft voice. "The bites will bleed, but shouldn't hurt much afterwards, though they may itch."

Elise opened her eyes. Their lids fluttered as she looked in the direction of Carlson's voice. The young woman studiously avoided looking at her hand.

"They attach themselves with the suction of their mouth." he explained. "A membrane surrounds it. Lift that and the suction is broken, releasing the creature." Applying his right forefinger to the first of them, he gently prized open the edge of its mouth with his fingernail. "Pulling them off otherwise or trying to annoy them in any way can upset them quite a bit and make the bite far worse. I've seen horrific sepsis, blood rot, after certain parties did so. I wouldn't advise it in any case."

Ariel gasped and flinched against Eric when the little creature loosed itself, her hand tightening a little against her throat as she watched blood well up from beneath the thing's mouth as it squirmed and wriggled against the officer's pincer-like movement, trying to latch onto his fingers.

With a swift twist of his wrist, Carlson flicked it to the floor behind him.

Elise and Ariel both squealed with the former mermaid nearly leaping into Eric's arms.

Eric simply caught her up a little bit tighter in his embrace, reassuring her with his formidable presence. It would have been difficult for her to be any closer to him.

"Another treat, Max." the officer quipped as a grey and white furry mop pounced upon the squirming new morsel.

Seeing this, Ariel's eyes went wide as her stomach continued to turn and twist in revulsion. In an instant, she turned her head from the dog to Eric, an accusing look in her eyes, looking for an explanation.

Eric shrugged, trying as hard as he could to suppress a laugh, and not succeeding well at it. He winced slightly at the questioning and hurt look in his little mermaid's eyes, then in a most unprincely fashion …

… he shrugged.

"He a _dog_, love." He paused, ducking his head slightly. "He likes to … well … _eat _things."

Ariel's mouth fell agape as she looked back at the dog as he leapt upon the second wriggling treat flung to him. She cringed. Suddenly … she felt sick again.

By the time she looked back at Gertrude Elise and the two men comforting and caring for her, the last of the leeches was off, and quickly thereafter joined its brothers in Max's pitiless, and bottomless, stomach. Then her eyes met Elise's. Before Ariel realized it, she had placed her own hand over both Hans' and the maid's, taking over holding the napkin in place.

_"I'm sorry."_ she whispered. _"This all is my fault."_

Elise looked at the princess, dumfounded. _"T … th … thank you Princess."_ she managed to stutter in a near whisper, wondering how any of this could have possibly been the girl's fault.

"Mistress Carlotta, could you bring me that bottle of spirits?" Carlson asked.

The Housekeeper had stood there with Aubrey Beauclerk, transfixed by the others' actions. Instead, Aubrey turned to the nightstand and took the bottle in hand, then in five long strides was at Ariel's side, offering it to the Captain.

Taking it in hand, Carlson poured its contents into the second napkin, wetting it until its color seemed to Ariel to grow darker, so laden it was with the pungent liquid. Then he set the bottle back into Aubrey's grasp and applied the wetted napkin to the back of Elise's right hand.

Ariel watched in fascination, but turned her head away the moment Hans lifted the napkin to reveal three fresh bites that continued to ooze scarlet and crimson blood.

The old sailor patted Ariel's hand and gently lifted it aside, returning it to her, taking back the napkins into his own charge.

Eric pulled Ariel into his chest as he felt his beloved's distress, drawing his hand up her back beneath her long flowing locks whereupon he once again began to caress her back and neck.

_"Shh."_ he whispered, not wanting to embarrass her. _"She'll be all right. You will too."_

It was only then that the realization struck him. Ariel's own leech bites were gone. When he had left her, there had been four, yet now only four dark discolorations of blood stains remained upon the soft flesh of her slender neck.

Ariel sighed against him, fighting the nausea that rose within her while keeping her eyes averted and her right cheek flush against Eric's chest.

Next to them, the young maid herself shuddered, drawing in a sharp breath and closing her eyes, causing Carlson to note the similarity in the two young women's sentiments regarding wounds. Or was it the sight of blood? _"Likely both." _he thought.

It was unfortunate that any of the three women in the room had to see something so gruesome, but as long as the wounds remained clean they shouldn't become corrupt.

_"You can look now Miss Elise, Princess. The worst is quite over."_ Carlson offered in a gentle, soothing voice, still concerned at how uncomfortable the two young women were. It didn't come as a surprise, but it wouldn't do for either to suffer nightmares because of it. While some men reacted to leeches with such abject horror and revulsion, he hadn't yet met a woman who didn't.

"The bites will stop bleeding in a few hours but until then, a series of bandages would be most helpful to keep pressure on them, Mistress Carlotta, as with the Princess before. Compresses as well, given that the bites will bleed for quite a while."

"Err, yes Captain." answered the Housekeeper, reminded by his words of the Princess's own bites that had seemingly vanished of their own accord. She paused, looking over as Ariel, who lay still in Eric's arms and against his chest.

* * *

**~ Even in Her Breath ~**

The room was growing darker now. Soon they would need candle and lantern light to see. As Eric held the girl against himself, he knew that he should have been back out on the quay hours ago, confronting Henrik and setting him straight once and for all regarding Ariel's innocence, if not necessarily the truth of the sailor's assumptions. He couldn't win on _that _account. She _was_ a mermaid after all, but not a siren as Henrik had called her. He couldn't expect Knudsen to know the difference but had the knowledge at the ready if he needed it. That was what the French and Spaniards called mermaids, though … sirens.

He needed her with him, calm and with her mind rested if she were to prove herself, and quietly debated whether to take her out with him directly, or if they could afford to add half an hour to their already half-day delay so that she could be bathed and cared for.

_Water._ Being immersed in it always seemed to lift her spirits and relax her – no wonder given her origins. It was only when she found herself in too deep to breathe while standing that she became scared. It must be so strange, so terrifying to her, being rejected like that by the very element into which she had been born. Eric wondered what it might be like if he were able to live and breathe underwater, only to find that his flesh scorched and burst into flame on exposure to the air and sun.

As Carlson and Hans comforted Gertrud, Eric felt comforted that the girl was looking better, and of course that she was mostly unhurt. He hated leeches, even the thought of them. Looking down, he studied his beloved who stood leaning so heavily against him, her eyes closed, her arms caught up against his chest. His arms still held her, wrapped protectively about her, and she felt so warm and soft, even in how she breathed.

_"Love."_ he began, feeling her nestle herself against him slightly at the word "Let's get you out to that bath Carlotta promised. You'll feel better in the water, especially once you're clean and fresh again."

The former mermaid looked up at him, the thought of water beckoning to her now in a way that someone who had not been a mermaid all of her life could never understand. Her body and heart were hurting and she was sure just a short moment of rest in water would help immeasurably. A question lingered though in her mind. Had Eric accomplished what he had wanted when he had gone back outside? Perhaps he had managed to reason with his friend, to convince him of her innocence?

"Eric, what happened when you left?" she asked, hesitant to continue. "Do they … _trust me_ now?"

The boy looked down into her eyes, and in the same instant she saw his answer reflected therein with his own sad expression. Even if he hadn't replied in words, she would have known the answer.

"I never made it back out to the Quay, love. Something … happened."

The sadness and twinge of horror in Ariel's eyes that greeted his words could have broken Eric's heart as he watched her realize … realize that she would once again have to face her accusers, no better off than she had been before. Indeed, she was now quite a bit worse off than she had been even that morning – tired, overwrought, and hurt. He felt her tremble as she closed her eyes and laid her cheek once again upon his chest.

His only thought was that he had _failed_ her.

_"I'm sorry."_ he whispered, lowering his eyes, eyes that were too pained to look back into hers.

_"Noo…"_ she whispered, sniffing quietly, hating that she was the cause of all of this, of his pain as well as her own and everyone else's in the room. _"I know that you did everything you could." _It was the only thing she could think of to say that might prove comforting to him; and her capacity to comfort anyone was near exhaustion.

The Housekeeper had been watching and listening to the pair's conversation from the other men's side where she was offering more napkins, and seeing a look on her boy's face that she knew all too well, felt the need to quickly interject. "I had Elise draw her a bath, but that was hours ago. I'm sure it will be cold by now." she offered.

Eric snapped out of his moment of self-loathing.

"It can't get very cold on a day like this, Lottie." Eric replied, noting though the change in the warmth of the air since just a few hours before. It was lessening even more with the breeze that now wafted and surged through the darkening room.

"Aaron, would you mind going down to the bathhouse and warming some water for a bath? I'm sure that Elise could use a rest to tend to that hand."

"_No, please. _It's my responsibility your Highness." Gertrud offered, blushing furiously at the young man's use of her name while pulling herself gently away from Hans' embrace. She looked at Hans, offering the old sailor an appreciative smile.

"Please, let _me_." she continued, taking the napkin on her right hand into her left and squeezing it tightly.

"I think you'll find it impossible to light a fire and boil water with that hand bleeding so, Miss Larsen. Hans and I can make short work of it if you show us what needs to be done." the officer said, looking to the old sailor as he spoke.

"Tha's righ' lass." Hans said, smiling. "Ha' tha' fire cracklin' and the water a boilin' i' no time."

Gertrude Elise looked first to Hans, then to the Captain and relented. She had no idea of how she would have done any of it with a stricken hand, though she would have done her best.

Aside from that, the Christiansborg could at times be an uncomfortably large and quiet place, and given the fright she had just suffered, the young woman secretly didn't mind the thought of having someone accompany her. Certainly, there were worse choices than Carlson, the Captain of the Guard himself, whose company and attention despite the circumstances … she was finding rather pleasant.

"Thank you Hans … Captain."

"You're welcome Miss Larsen. Let's be on our way then." Carlson wanted to make haste against this new but possibly necessary delay, and was wondering if Eric would have any time left at all to persuade Knudsen and his faction once he arrived back at _Lyn_. "If you'll excuse us Princess, Eric, Lord Grimsby."

"We'll be there as soon as we can Aaron." Eric followed, looking down again to Ariel._ "Don't be afraid, love_."

Opening her eyes, she turned her head until her chin lay upon his chest and she was looking upward at mind focused upon her betrothed's words. _"You're not leaving me again?"_ she whispered.

_"No, I won't leave you." _he whispered in reply, raising his right hand to caress her cheek. He smiled as he dismissed a tear that he had found there with a gentle movement of his thumb. "_I'll stay with you until this is put to rest."_

_"You promise?"_

_"I promise."_

* * *

**_Author's Note: _Regarding That Sheepdog__**

_I remember one day long ago when I and my parents, brother and sister were down in the furnished basement of our house – I can't remember if it was morning or evening or what the occasion that had brought us all together was, perhaps we were watching television together. The basement was our beagle's domain though, his little kingdom. While we there, sitting around the family room and talking, a large and dark creature, some sort of bug, a spider perhaps, went scuttling across the floor._

_If Pups wasn't the first to notice it, he was the first to react at everyone's alarm. Hopping up from his bed, he launched himself across the basement tiles and quickly assessed the thing. It only took a couple of sniffs before he assessed it as "likely tasty" and gobbled it right up. It wasn't the last time that he would do so._

_Anyway, that was my inspiration for Max taking out his revenge on the leeches that had so annoyed the young ladies in his life. I have no idea of how a beagle or a sheepdog would react to leeches, especially given that my sense of disgust for the things is little less than anyone's in the story, but I've had the scene in my mind for quite a long time now, and finally got it out of my system._

* * *

**_Acknowledgments and Credits:_**

**_Cover Art:_** _The cover art remains "Ariel" by scarlettiwater deviantart com._

_The link to the original is scarlettiwater deviantart com/art/Ariel-296039838_

**_Creative Contributions:_**_ As usual, Wikipedia is my friend. _

_As I reflected on this chapter, at first I didn't think there were any references to others' stories, but once I finish a chapter, I tend to re-read it online, making further editorial changes, usually to fix grammar, word omissions, and other issues that I notice. _

_In so doing with "Islands," I realized that as before, there were references to some of Crisis Rose's stories, most very subtle or in how I chose my words for certain characters' actions:_

_· __Blue__, Of Sunrise and Stories, __Between Land and Sea, __Keep Holding On__, and the Prince Eric series._

_If I find any others, I'll note them here! __J_


	23. Chapter 21 - Precious Things

**Author's Note: **_Even though I am working to an outline and know where the story is going, sometimes I find that a chapter has more to tell than I am aware. In fact, I have found that I enjoy the journey in the telling as much as the destination that I foresee. _

_Maybe when Sael is complete I'll create an abridged version which omits much of the history, description, and characterization and development of Ariel and Eric as well as those around them. _

_As I write, I tend to write in named sections, mini-chapters or movements. Normally, I've chosen to remove the names of these as I've posted the story. Sometimes, more often than not, they've had none, but simply arose from natural divisions in the story as written. I've left them in this time, as a little experiment to see how it looks and how affects your enjoyment, if at all. Please let me know if you like it or even if you don't._

_For now though, here is the first half of what was originally to be "Wash Away Yours Cares – Prelude to a Confrontation," the second of half of which is well in progress, in both draft and outline form, and is taking shape quickly. It will very likely bear that final title. _

_I've you've enjoyed Ariel and Eric so far in "Sael," you'll find much more of them together herein, but as usual, much more in general as well._

_Oh, and it's probably worth noting that my profile and forums contain a wealth of information pertaining to my stories. T__he links to my forum are in my profile. _

**_Publication Date: _**_Sunday, August 21st, 2016_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 21 – Precious Things**

**_~~~ Saturday, the 16th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 06:00 p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

* * *

**~ Frederik's Palae ~**

The Christiansborg Slot, a great European palace perched upon the northern shore of a small Caribbean island; even while it had stood in its day it had been an oddity, and the stories of its troubled conception and construction would require volumes in their own right to fully recount.

Suffice it to say that its curious, even breathtaking design had been conceived and considered long before Hereditary Prince Frederik had been installed as Regent of Denmark and Norway.

To a student of the architecture of the day, the Christiansborg Slot would have seemed a contest in both eccentricity and inspiration, a folly whose design had sprung not just from three competing artistic styles, but from the fortifications that had long lain abandoned to the west of Christiansted, fortifications that had once guarded its western approaches. While it stood, it remained as a monument, a silent witness, both to the isle's once disputed status, and the curious life of a former mermaid and the prince who loved her.

Originally called "Frederik's Palae," and later during its construction "Frederiksborg Slot," its fitful building and perennially uncertain prospects for completion stood in testament to the history of the Jomfruøerne themselves. Indeed, it received its present and enduring title only after its namesake had burned to the ground in Copenhagen in 1794, taking with it the life of Prince Frederik's wife Sophia; an event that all but shattered the lives of Eric, his sisters, and younger brother.

It was fitting, thus, that Eric should find his new home in a place bearing the name of his old; for like the story of the Isles, and that of his life, its tale was incomplete.

* * *

**~ The Significance … of a Room ~**

On the western face just south of the Christiansborg's Guest Tower, a little dormer reached out above the inner haven. Recessed inward of the Princess's guest room and balcony, it and the spaces below had served two purposes in their conception, though of these but one remained known to most of the palace's inhabitants – illumination.

With its twin on the eastern facing of the palace, the west dormer covered the ends of the broad hall and balcony that overlooked the Ballroom on the second floor. Stairs from the higher guest rooms landed at the hall's eastern end, masking another room whose only human access lay through the nearby eastern guest room.

At either of the dormer's faces, two thin windows framed in gold-washed walnut pierced the outer walls. Those facing eastward looked out upon the Quay while those facing westward looked out over the inner haven and the barbicans. But three feet below each lay a narrow ledge that ran around and outside the buildings of the Eastern Hall; around all, that is, save the Guest Tower.

Within the westward facing windows stood a parlor, a chamber somewhat smaller than the six fine guest rooms that lay both above, adjacent to, and below it. When Nicolai Eigtved had first conceived the design and lines of the palace seventy years before he had envisioned it as such, a parlor. Its appointments thus were sumptuous, beginning with its smooth floor of tiled marble, a pale pink marble threaded through with slender veins white as a ghost.

Overspreading it in a great swathe lay a Safavid carpet. Indigo wool and silk dyed to the cornflower-blue of the Household livery and threaded through with golden piping and martial accents formed a medallion-and-corner design. The center medallion portrayed a great bull elephant, faced and flanked by the royal coats of arms of the two kingdoms. Four figures, mermaids and woodwoses, cornered these in smaller medallions. Wild, sometimes fanciful, creatures were depicted in the fields, while mermaids frolicked in the far corner medallions. The border medallions were lobed, each depicting processions of knights and maidens along with a fair menagerie of mythical beasts. In-between their borders, great lions and dragons fought a battle about the two crowns, watched from above, by the all-knowing eye.

It was, in a word … magnificent.

Inward from the eastern wall of the room sat a chesterfield sofa and its accompanying end tables, and beneath the twin windows themselves stood a sinuous-backed chaise longue. All were upholstered in a fine silk of Tyrian purple, their carven cherry posts and frames inlaid with threads of gold, their scrolled and carven frames washed in hints of the precious metal.

The little parlor had been seldom used in all of the years that the palace had been under construction and occupied, save for the visits of three very different princesses, two of whom had taken great pleasure in it, and one who had weeks before consoled herself there, in equally great sorrow.

While the rising sun at the break of day and early morning would suffuse the Audience Hall and Ballroom above it with a rich red-golden light, this later blossoming into the full white light of day, its ascendance above the apices of the windows on their eastern walls would eventually plunge all of those chambers into deep shadow. Dark arches would march down the western walls, hiding the great paintings, hanging mirrors, and proud statutes that decorated the rooms' inner reaches.

The gloom of the upper reaches of the Eastern Halls would thus deepen throughout the morning and into the following afternoon, particularly in those later and earlier months of the year as the sun rose to find its zenith in the south, and then fell again into the west, taking its nightly leave of the Isles.

The Guest Gallery above being without windows itself, what little outside illumination reached it must of course filter up from the Ballroom below and the landing overlooking it, and the little parlor beneath the western dormer. Thus, the Guest Gallery had been growing lighter throughout the afternoon, but the four soldiers occupying it would hardly have noticed, so fixated they had become upon the scene unfolding before them.

* * *

**The Lowly Men of the Guard **

"_Jens, wha's goin' on?"_ Alf Brandt whispered, craning his neck to the left, trying to peer over and around Jens Lund, listening as Mistress Carlotta cried out to the girl, begging her to calm herself ... without effect.

He and Private Beck had arrived at the landing shortly after the Prince and Captain, but had proceeded no further, having found Jens Lund and Anders Thomsen frozen there at their posts, each peering into the Princess's bedroom beyond after the officer had followed the Prince in.

"Mistress Carlotta said that the princess fell; but she didn't seem hurt when I looked in after her, and there didn't seem to be anything else out of order, other than the poor girl being so upset." Jens paused, biting his lower lip. "I didn't know what else to do."

In bolting by, the Prince had hardly seemed to register what Lund had been trying to tell him, that his betrothed seemed to have fallen, that she had been in tears since Max had first flown out the two doors.

Jens had searched the room with his own eyes. There had been no sign of assailants, no dangers, no Doctor Østerby, and nothing untoward save for the Princess's own sudden and inexplicable distress. Hearing her sobs and feeling his own lack of either knowledge or skill to do anything about them left the young soldier fighting to keep his own composure, and to keep from going to her himself to try to help.

What could he even _do_ if he did?

Couldn't_ somebody _help her?

Could _Eric_?

At least the Prince was with her now.

The other three men stood there in silence, looking on, presumably less than inclined to act. _"Ain't nothin' ya' could do Jens. At least th' Mistress didn' seem to thin' so." _Thomsen whispered back.

Brandt peeked around the younger private. In the Princess's bedchamber, the Prince knelt before the young woman who had become the object of such turmoil that day; a young woman who had but a few weeks before … been a mermaid.

Alone among the four, Private Alf Brandt had actually been there, weeks ago on the night of the so-called "false wedding," when all hell had broken loose after a pretty latecomer had mysteriously appeared on the ship's finely appointed deck. She had been breathtaking, even as bedraggled as she had then been, her long hair a striking scarlet mingled with crimson red, shining in the light of the evening's golden sun.

He had seen what she had become when it had set.

His eyes couldn't have betrayed him, could they? That tail, _her_ tail, oh how it had shimmered and shone such a deep emerald hue as it had hung beneath the hem of her dress, her still held fast in the stunned Prince's arms, screaming and writhing in what must have unimaginable pain. That was before she had been seized, seized and pulled away from the prince, from the ship, drawn over the side into the depths beneath the mounting waves. The young soldier had thought it impossible that he or anyone else might ever see her again.

Yet, there she was.

The _mermaid_.

Alf's eyes were drawn to her. Held in Mistress Carlotta's arms, gasping for air, her choked cries and the fevered conversation that burned about her were all to be heard in the room. It was the first time that Alf had seen her so close since she had returned. Her form and limbs were every bit as slender and fair as he had remembered, her body young yet shapely, the features of her face that he could discern were delicate and lovely.

She seemed such a tiny thing, though, so slight, _"A girl, still becoming a woman." _Alf thought.

Agony though, seemed to have followed her.

"_That was before she screamed, Anders."_ Jens continued, leaning over to the older soldier. _"Do you think we should close the doors, or leave them open so we can make sure they're all right?" _

Not seeming to know what else to do, Brandt and Beck had followed Lund and Thomsen's example, they had stood and watched; watched as Eric and Carlson spoke to each other, watched as the young prince drew the maiden to himself, and much to their surprise, caught her lips in a deep and desperate kiss. The young girl's arms flailed from behind at his shoulders, but as quickly as he had drawn her in, she fell limp, her slender arms and hands weakening and falling away to her sides.

The former blaze of words at hand had died away to embers by now. All was quiet as the prince held his princess in his arms, save for a few words the young man spoke to the Mistress. Then, surprisingly to all four of the soldiers, his words turned to song. Never before had any of them heard Eric _sing_, though it was said by some of the _Lyns_ that he did so often at sea, and with a fine voice. Now they knew the truth of it.

Why he was singing to her in _Swedish_, though, none of them could guess.

"_I say we close 'em."_ Thomson whispered back. _"No' our 'ffair if'n we cain't do nothin' 'bout it, eh?"_

So they watched, unable to decide what to do regarding the doors, caught between their mutual senses of duty and decency, curiosity and respect for the chamber's occupants. Jens watched as Gertrude drew away from her own tender embrace with the wizened sailor from _Lyn_, and went about tidying the floor.

As the conversation shifted in the room, the light of westering sun fell fully into it. For a moment, fire seemed to leap up about their Captain, rising from the polished floor, silhouetting him against the far balcony in a glorious nimbus of gold.

What only the four soldiers could see though, was how at that same moment, the same sunlight filtering through the far doors seemed to dance within the young princess's tresses, tresses that from moment to moment seemed to pass from crimson to scarlet, and finally shone a reddish gold. It was as though her hair had been set ablaze, its loose strands and tresses transmuting the failing sunlight into a long cascade of dark molten copper.

All was still as Brandt and the three other men caught their collective breath.

Before that, it had not seemed an unnatural color when they had first seen it weeks ago, nor even that very morning, just one unusually rich, and unusually deep in tone. Strange that it should seem as such, so normal, Jens thought, given its otherwise striking character. Never before, though, had he seen it so close, and never before had he seen it's like that he now watched, the very sun playing like a flame in a maiden's hair.

He wished … that he could … touch it … just once.

And then it was over, the sun passing fully behind Carlson, seeking by its appointed path its nightly rest. A darkness spread across the room. Reaching out, Anders Thomsen drew the twin doors shut, with only the slender click at their handles indicating that they had latched closed. As they closed, the four were left to their own thoughts.

Jens' throat hurt.

A lump, a twisted, aching knot, had been growing there since Gertrud had departed earlier that afternoon, and all the more so since he had afterwards heard the Princess cry out. More than anything, he wanted to help her, somehow. The twisting in his throat, the ache in his chest that made it feel like it was ready to collapse, they were one, the same … and they refused to go away despite the Mistress's insistence that his help was not needed. "But what if something goes amiss?" he pleaded, looking to Thomsen.

"We'll 'ear if it do." Anders turned his eyes to the other two men. "No point crowdin' the door, you two. Stand o'er there if ye' want ta' wait." he finished, nodding to the balustrade overlooking the Ballroom's north balcony below.

Out of respect for whatever must be taking place beyond the two doors, Brandt and Beck moved to the balcony to keep their half of the watch. While the landing before the princess's door offered its nearby balcony's view of the Skywalk, the balustrade overlooking the ballroom at least offered the occasional view of a pretty maid.

The four remained quiet, with only the gallery's ancient grandfather clock breaking the silence.

Away it ticked.

Tick …

The seconds.

Tick …

The minutes

Tick …

The hours?

Had it been an hour? Had it been longer?

Sometimes, low, muffled words could be barely heard from the other side of the doors, but nothing alarming, no more gasping for air, nor sobs, nor screams, at least not ones loud enough to be heard.

Again, only the voices were to be heard, and eventually, not even them. Just the wash of the sea below, the whistling of the wind at the balcony glass at the landing's north end, the sound of a gull beyond.

Then a dull crash shattered the quiet, startling the four – the sound of something breaking, something like glass.

A scream followed, three distinct screams, as the room beyond erupted into a cacophony of male voices and female cries.

That was too much, and in an instant Anders Thomsen had the door cracked open while Jens peered in, his right hand tensing about the curved grip of his infantermuskett.

"_What's goin' on on th'other side?"_ Thomsen asked, his voice hushed. _"Anyone there who don't belong?"_

"_No, no one."_ His eyes sought out and found the Princess. She stood on the far side of the bed, held fast in Eric's arms, the Prince seeming to shield her from whatever was happening. She was afraid. Lund felt the sudden urge to burst through the doors, but just then, his gaze fell upon someone else and his heart froze. _Gertrude Elise_. She was crying in the old sailor's arms while Carlson seemed to be tending to her hand.

He wished that _he_ could be the one holding her as the old sailor now was._ "I'm worried about her, Anders. I hate seeing her upset. She looks so scared."_

"_Her? You mean the Princess?" __asked a voice. It was Beck's._

Jens nodded, but while his eyes and worry indeed encompassed the princess, most of his attention was now devoted to Gertrude Elise. _"Yes … well, maybe Gertrud too." _Jens cringed. Why had he said that!? Why had he let his feelings for the girl slip out? Now, he'd never hear the end of it from the boys.

"_Gertrud? You mean that pretty little apple Mistress has had hovering about her?" _Beck chuckled, nudging Jens in the ribs with his elbow. _"Is she in there too? Sweet on her, are you Jens?"_

Jens nodded softly, then regretted that as well, hoping that Beck hadn't seen and left it at that. He didn't want to hear anything mean-hearted about Gertrud.

"_Any reason we should go in?"_ Thomson whispered, breaking the silence and rescuing his young student from further embarrassment.

"_I don't think so." _Jens replied, wishing that he had instead said _yes_.

"_Should we close the doors again then?" _Beck offered from the back of the four.

"_Not until we know what's going on, Alf! Something caused her, them, to scream. All of them still look frightened, even the Mistress." _Jens shot back, finding Edvard's suggestions unhelpful and unwelcome. Lund wanted to make certain, well and sure, that both of the girls were unharmed and safe, just as the prince had commanded.

"_Oh … the Prince."_ Jens thought.

How odd that his very purpose for coming to Sankt Croix had been to guard Prince Christian, yet his every attention was now focused upon the two young ladies before him. He knew how well Eric handled himself in a fight, while sparring at least, and had heard about what the young prince had done during the raids. Eric was more than able to take care of himself. Still, he felt guilty at this realization, this lapse in focus and attention to duty.

As his eyes continued searched the dimming room, he spotted something odd on the fine rug not far from Gertrud's right foot. "There's something on the floor in the sitting area, I think it's what broke, a jar maybe. I still don't see anyone else in there. Things seemed to have settled a bit. Not sure what Max is worrying at."

"Worrying? I don't see why you're so _worried _Jens, how could anyone even get in?" Beck replied. "Only ways are through us or through that balcony, and that's a hundred feet above the docks."

Anders, being the senior of the four, decided that enough was enough. Something was happening in the princess's bedchamber, and if he had to err, it would be best to err on the side of caution. Even if he was wrong, he trusted the Prince to understand.

Had it been any other prince, he might have thought twice.

"Giv'n wha' th' Prince and Cap'n said afore, I'd rather no' take no chances. _Fix yer bayonets boys, an' have a care that n'one charges int'ya. Jens, op'n th' doors, quiet like."_

* * *

**~ Bayonets! ~**

Two silhouettes.

_No. Four._

Gray had just turned to depart when he noticed them, two men shadowed in the threshold of the bedroom doors. Behind them loomed two others. Each was holding a raised musket with fixed bayonet, their eyes and blades shining crimson in the failing light of day. The officer froze before even taking a step.

Behind him, Sael was caught by the soldiers in mid-turn. He started, but it wasn't the first time such a dire sight had greeted him, and even as he raised his right eyebrow and cocked his head at Thomsen and Lund, he saw that the four soldiers were lowering their weapons. What little alarm their presence had stirred in his heart abated as quickly as it had arisen. The tight little bundle of his rolled up hat tugged at the back of his waistband, when it should have been in his hands.

Gertrud Elise shrieked and ducked behind the Captain, only in the act finally recognizing Privates Lund and Thomsen. Looking up from her earlier fright to find four muskets pointed at her had been more than sufficient to overcome the girl's normally placid demeanor. That each man had affixed to his weapon's muzzle a rather long and wickedly sharp looking knife did nothing to diminish her alarm; especially given that she hadn't been aware that any of the men had been present even a moment before.

Having never considered herself particularly courageous, Gertrude Elise found herself already thankful for Hans' and Captain Carlson's escort, and was beginning to appreciate Princess Ariel's discomfiture.

The girl's cry caused everyone in the room to start and jump, most notably Ariel, whose composure had already been pushed far beyond its breaking point. The former mermaid, however, didn't budge from her refuge in Eric's embrace, and when the older girl screamed, she instead shrank into her love's arms like a little she-crab darting back into her shell.

Only Eric heard the hopeless cry she made as she did so, the soft whimper with which she buried herself into him as he snapped his eyes over to the bedchamber doors. He could feel her heart racing against his chest as he lifted her slightly and turned to put himself between her and yet another possible threat. As he did so, a sharp snap ripped through his back, followed by a burning pain, as though a red-hot poker had seared his spine. His eyes shot open.

"_Easy … easy … love."_ he whispered, straining to speak and clenching his eyes shut again as he tried to work through the fire and regain his self-control and composure. _"It's … it's … all right." _Eric whispered.

There was a new strain clear in his voice, a voice that wavered between a measured calm and a stifled cry. His words came out as a labored breath._ "It's just … the … guards."_

As he struggled to clear his head and open his eyes, he felt Ariel lift her head against him, probably at the sharp breath he had taken or his unsteady voice, which he had hoped she hadn't heard. He hated feeling _weak_, especially when she needed him so much now to be strong for her. He continued stroking his little mermaid's back, gently rocking her in the most soothing manner that he could still manage.

Raising her eyes, Ariel found that Eric's own eyes didn't meet hers this time. Instead, they were shut tight in a grimace, as though he were hurting, badly. She had felt the tremor ripple through him; his muscles had jerked and seized against her, and now his reaction was causing a new fear to stir within her heart.

_He_ was _in pain_, maybe even _worse_.

Slipping her right hand out from between them where it had lain against his chest, she reached up to his face and cupped his right cheek. Trembling now, she watched him relax at her touch.

"_Eric, are … are you hurt?" _she whispered, a hint of panic lingering in the tremor of her voice.

Eric opened his eyes. The ache in his back had been complaining for some time now while the muscles in his arms and legs were protesting his continued exertion with a dull, deepening fire. He hadn't realized though how tired his body was. He was all right though. He _was_. He _had_ to be.

Looking down, he found her eyes gazing into his, full of worry – worry for him when at the very moment that she should be worrying about everything else, herself especially.

"_No." _he replied in a whisper, raising his hand to cup hers. Her touch, her warmth, she felt so wonderful to him.

"_But … you sounded like you were in pain." _Her whisper wavered on the edge of a sob.

"_Don't worry love. I'm fine." _he replied, remaining quiet as he tried to push down the burning ache and fatigue.

Each successive shock had struck Ariel harder … Knudsen's accusations and his hateful, terrifying look; her overreaction to Eric's words, collapsing at her bedside, then the leeches – first her own horrifying encounter with them … and then poor Elise's.

… and now the guards … now _this_.

A frenzy of bloodthirsty sharks … swarming, circling her, darting at and striking her from the blind, with the rest – the _worst_ – yet to come. They were ready to lunge at her at any moment from the darkness around her, from the uncountable dangers of her adopted world that she had never expected, never imagined.

It was too much, _too much_ … just one thing after another … and now she could only barely walk … barely _think _… and Henrik was outside … _waiting_.

Still closely held within Eric's arms, Ariel became aware of his taut muscles pressing against her slight upper arms and diminutive back. His embrace surrounded her, engulfing her like the sea. He had always felt so _strong_ to her, but she knew now that he too was _hurting_. It terrified her. She wondered if _she_ had ever felt _weaker_. What must he think of her … now just a helpless little girl … a little guppy? What could she possibly do to help _him_?

It had just been _too much_ though … _too much_.

She tried to not cry, as hard as she possibly could. She had shed so many tears today that she thought it impossible that any water remained within her little inner sea. As Ariel lay against him, she felt a dryness within her, a need for water, and realized that her throat was once again parched. A sob escaped her as she shuddered and trembled in his arms, clutching at his shirt beneath her. Her heart hurt so _much_, _too much_, and now she was so _scared_ for _him_. Eric had always been indifferent to his own suffering with her; he _never_ told her when he was hurt or even tired, and she had discovered only weeks ago where _that_ led.

What if something happened to _him_? What if she lost _him_?

Even after he had tried to reassure her, Eric could feel Ariel growing tenser by the moment in his arms. A shudder ran through her as she drew in a short, stifled gasp, not quite a sob, but not far from one either. At least no tears were streaming down her face, something that crushed his heart to see.

"_I'm all right, love."_ Eric whispered. _"I just twisted my back the wrong way. Please don't worry. It feels better already." _he added, not being completely truthful with her, but honestly trying to convince himself that it _was_ true just the same.

Eric's whisper brought her back to the present. Eric held her with such care, such … _gentleness_, she thought, her heart dancing within her despite her lingering fear. She felt his fingers caressing the soft flesh and muscles of her back, kneading the tenseness from them through the thin silk of her dress. He sounded strong to her, not hurt. She let his voice steady her against any new terrors.

"_There's no reason to be afraid, love, those men are just your guards. They're here to protect you."_

As Ariel clung there against Eric, having felt him lift and turn her before whatever pain he had felt shot through him, she remembered when they had first danced together, how effortlessly he had lifted her into the air and then spun her about him. It had been one of the most wonderful moments of her life. Never had she imagined humans being able to move together in such an amazing and beautiful way. It had been like swimming, but without a tail, only legs, and like nothing else she had ever before experienced, that exhilarating, dizzying sensation.

Eric had always seemed to be quite strong to her, and she doubted that she could ever manage such a feat, nor had she yet met a human woman whom she thought might be able to do that with a human man. Perhaps with a _baby_? Did human mothers lift and spin their babies through the air as Eric had her?

Even if they didn't, someday … _she wanted to_.

Slowly, she raised her eyes over Eric's shoulder towards the door of her bedchamber. Standing there she saw the young blonde haired boy-soldier she had seen earlier that morning, the one who reminded her so alarmingly of what an older Urchin might have looked like, along with another human, one much darker-haired, stouter and older.

Thomsen spoke first. "Captain, is … everything … _well_?"

Carlson hesitated, then exhaled as the tension in the room broke, the soldier's words filling the air like water bursting through a dam.

"Yes." he replied, drawing in a deep breath. "As well as can be expected."

Pressed up against him and still looking over his shoulder, Elise felt the man's muscles relax in his arms and torso as he lowered his head, as though he too might have been startled by the men's unannounced presence and aggressive stance. It made her feel just a bit less embarrassed and self-conscious … that she wasn't alone in being caught by surprise.

"May I _ask_ … how long have you _four _been standing there?" he asked, exasperated, looking beyond the two men to recognize Privates Brandt and Beck peering into the Princess's room from the Gallery.

"A couple of minutes, sir." Lund replied. "… just after we heard the ladies' screams and that crash. May I ask what it was Captain?" He scanned the floor, looking first to the princess, then to Elise, and then to the Captain again.

Carlson's eye met the man's. "A _jar_, Private Lund, a jar of medicinal leeches. A parting gift from our good Physician, I'm afraid."

The officer turned his head, looking back over his shoulder, only to find Gertrud Elise's pale blue eyes looking back at his as she hung there, her hands affixed to his shoulders, having yet to relax them even the slightest.

She jumped slightly, blinking as his eyes met hers, startling her out of her reverie. His she found to be a middling but still somehow startling green, darkest in a thin ring of almost blue that faded to that green at the iris's outer edge. This gave way to flecks of brown and finally a jagged ring the color of ripe hazelnuts near its center. She had never before been close enough to him notice such detail in them. The mixture of blues, greens and browns reminded her of the Fruens Bøge on autumn's eve. The young maid felt a dreamy warmth beginning to rise within her as she felt herself blushing, leaving her cheeks rosy and the rest of her light-headed.

As she blushed, Gertrude thought that she saw the beginnings of a smile arise in the man's eyes, this just before she felt her hands taken into his own and gently lowered to her sides. The man's smile spread to brighten the rest of his face as he looked at her, before looking away and deeper into the bedchamber.

"Are you _all right _Miss Larsen?" he asked in a quiet voice, letting those eyes turn back to hers and then to Hans, who stood there right beside the two, eyes fixed on the both of them, ears obviously keen on every word the two said.

"Yes." she replied, smiling back and nodding. "I'm sorry that I cried out. I feel ashamed of myself."

"Please don't." he said without a hint of reproach, looking to the nearby soldiers. "You aren't alone in finding the barrels of loaded muskets annoying to one's calm." He looked back down to the jar on the nearby floor. "And _no one_ likes _leeches_."

As he spoke, Max pawed his way out from under the royal blue settee, scanning the floor about him, a forlorn – and hungry – look in his eyes. He let out a little nasal whine.

"_Well, almost no one."_ Carlson added.

His tone of voice was gentle and encouraging, even playful, and it made the young maid smile. Then she realized that she was blushing – and had been blushing.

Turning, Gray took her hands back into his own as he passed her elbow to Hans. Then reaching down he picked up the two napkins where they had fallen. Folding one over into quarters, he pressed it to the back of the young woman's slender hand. Then taking the other napkin, he tied it about the first to form a quick, neat knot to secure it.

Watching as he did so, she remembered and looked up at Hans. Her old friend was smiling back at her with his favorite grin, the one at least, that he seemed to reserve exclusively for her. "Yer' all right Elise?" he asked, reaching over and laying his hand upon the bandage.

She nodded and smiled back at him, laying her free hand atop his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Miss Larsen, Hans, I believe that we need to attend to the Princess's bath."

"Yes. _Of course,_ Captain." The young maid turned her head to the others in the room behind her, trying to suppress an unexpected happiness and smile that she felt rising within her. "I'm … so sorry if I startled you again Princess, Mistress. _Please forgive me_."

"Forgive you, _for what_?" Ariel asked unevenly, her voice cracking as she raised her head to peer over Eric's right shoulder at Elise, Hans, and Carlson. "Are you … _all right_?"

"For startling you, Princess. I'm sorry, I was just surprised by the men." Gertrude considered her good fortune that this was Princess _Ariel_, and not another Antillean princess of whom she had in just the last few months heard more than enough. "Yes, though, I'm fine now, but I feel awful for frightening you … again."

"There's no need." The former mermaid offered the young maid a weak smile. "It wasn't your fault, it was _mine_." she continued, her voice fading somewhat as she leaned heavily against Eric.

"But Prin …"

"Private Anders." Carlson interrupted. "Leave the bedroom door ajar and keep a keen ear. The Prince and Princess will depart shortly for the bathhouse, and you four are to accompany them when they do.

"_Yes sir."_ the men said, not quite in unison, withdrawing from the bedchamber to resume their positions at the guard outside its doors.

"Hans, Miss Elise, let's be on our way." the officer said, taking Elise's left hand into his own and pulling both her and Hans along. "I sincerely beg your pardon for my interruption, Miss Larsen, but time is the one commodity we have lack of, and it is of the essence." Exiting the room, the officer retrieved his tall shako hat from the outside table, adjusting its chin strap as he continued onward toward the stairs.

Hans, Gertrude Elise in hand, followed. As the three left, the young woman turned her head to look back towards the Princess's chambers, only to find her eyes met by Private Lund's. While she had spoken to him before, this was the first time that she had truly taken notice of his _eyes_. They were blue of course, like many if not most Danes, but an astonishingly _pale_ blue, paler than the prince's, paler, she thought, even than hers, almost like the blue of ice adrift on the winter sea. How she had not noticed them before when she had spoken to him. Had she been too embarrassed to look him in the eyes?

The soldier blushed and quickly turned his head away and back to the princess's chamber, but not before Gertrude Elise too felt a blush reddening her cheeks. While it upset her that he and the other three had frightened and embarrassed her so, the young man did seem to her … well … rather handsome. He had smiled at her so sweetly and been so helpful when she had arrived at the Princess's door earlier in the day; and like the Captain's, his eyes seemed very kind.

Trailing the girl by a pace how, Hans smiled at the guards. _"'Twas a fine scare ya' gave us all lads. Good thing I ha' clean britches on." _he whispered, winking at Lund, then sped up to catch up with Gertrud Elise.

Soon, the Princess's bedchamber and Gallery lay behind her as Hans, smiling, drew her along down the stairs. She felt a light tug at her arm.

Leaning over, he whispered to her _"Migh' be m' fancy, I thin' tha' boy might jus' have 'is eye on ya', lass. Fine lookin' fella too, if'n ya' don' mind me saying so. Good stock I think." _he finished, looking back.

Gertrud tried her best not to blush.

* * *

**~ Candlelight ~**

"Well, with all of that I think we ought to have some light in here. Aubrey, could you bring me those two candles?" Carlotta said, breaking the silence that followed Carlson's departure. Taking a walnut tinder box from the marble mantle above the sitting area, Grimaldi slid open its carven walnut cover and set it back down.

"Yes, of course Madame." Beauclerk replied as he noted Carlotta's imploring look. Hopefully they would discuss everything that had happened later that evening as usual, after the palace had gone to sleep, if things outside went well of course. Had the moment been a happier one, he would have added a tender smile and wink to his assent.

Flint and steel in hand, the Housekeeper began to strike them together above the burnt linen tinder in the box's other compartment. The quiet chatter of stone clicking and scraping upon steel filled the otherwise silent room, silent save for the breath-like sigh of the waves breaking against the rock and sand far below.

The noise caught Ariel's attention, having become a hallmark of the human world for her. Every evening and morning since she had first arrived in this room, Carlotta or Gertrud, even Eric a handful of times, had brought fire to life before her very eyes. It had become a little ritual for her that she hoped to one day try herself, to try and succeed at that is. Fire-making, drawing flame from steel and stone, was much harder than it at first looked. There was an art to it, yet the making of fire in this fashion never ceased to enchant her, how one thing, itself so dead and inert, could become imbued with life, growth, and warmth. With her right cheek laid against Eric's chest, the former mermaid watched as Carlotta worked human magic, right before her still damp eyes.

Soon a wisp of smoke rose from the black ashen cloth. A small reddish glow, a little ember was born within. Grimaldi lowered her eyes to the tinder and carefully, delicately breathed life into it.

Ariel thought back to the sermons she had heard on the past few Sundays, especially the story of how the human God had breathed life into the first human being, His creation. Breathing life into fire, it seemed so much like that to her. The life of human beings, _it _was like fire, sometimes kind, sometimes cruel. It could be kindled into existence from but a spark – and snuffed out just as quickly.

In Pastor Jenkin's sermon, there had been no mention of merfolk.

With each little long puff of breath the ember glowed and grew more, until at last a little flame blossomed like a flower and danced upon its surface. Reaching to her right, the Housekeeper removed the glass from the nearest candle and brought its wick to the flame. The latter quickly took light, filling that side of the room with a golden red glow.

A sweet scent stole through the chamber and tickled Ariel's nose. She closed her eyes, remembering her first night in Eric's house, when she had sat and watched with rapt attention this same little ritual in this very same room. She remembered when she had first smelled the scent of "good" fire, the kind that Eric's people used for warmth and to create, not the ruinous kind that had nearly taken his and her life.

As she looked over at the young woman whom Eric had, in one fashion of another, held in his arms for the past hour and a half, Carlotta could only feel a sad admixture of sorrow and hope. Sorrow at how her little girl's spirit and body had been crushed that the day, and hope that her love for Eric and his for her would allow her to withstand the pain she was now suffering.

She was surprised to find that Ariel's eyes were open, following her every move, as candle flames danced in their sad blue depths. Perhaps that shouldn't have been a surprise, knowing their little mermaid's fascination with the seeming impossibility of fire. The girl's features were sullen this time though, and she seemed still not far from tears. The Good Lord Himself knew that she had already shed far too many that day.

Perhaps it was that forlorn look in those immeasurably deep blue orbs as she turned away that prompted the Housekeeper to break the silence that had ensued after the candle-lighting. If she could though, she would have caught the young woman in her arms herself and held her tight, her tears at bay, though she would have probably been crying herself at what had happened to her since that morning.

"Eric, is she all ri …"

The prince replied with a brief glance back to her, followed by a silent nod, returning his attention to Ariel, whose head now lay once again against his chest, her eyes closed. He waited for a little while, taking the time just to hold her, to comfort her as best he could, but he couldn't remain silent forever.

"_It's been an awful day, hasn't it?"_ he asked in a soft voice, looking down at the girl as he stroked her hair and the back of her neck with his right hand.

Ariel raised her eyes, eyes sad and glistening but no longer tearful. She nodded, then laid her forehead back down against his upper chest and lower neck.

Even with as much as she had slept and rested within his arms since that morning, Eric could feel how exhausted Ariel was. If they were to prove their case to Henrik, though, she needed to be by his side, she herself being the only possible proof not only of her own innocence, but of her essential goodness.

He couldn't do this without her.

That he _too_ felt stretched and spent was immaterial. He was going to see this through. She was his _lady_ and he was defending her _honor_. More importantly, if such a thing were possible, he was now defending every single thing that he knew she had ever dreamt of in her life. That he might also be defending that very life was a thought he quickly banished from his mind, or tried to ... but couldn't.

This was the price.

He had fallen in love with a _mermaid_. He had helped her become, or at least remain, human just so that she could be with him, so that she could be _his, _and he_ hers_. There had to be a price, for nothing, and certainly no girl so precious, could ever come without great cost. That night that he had saved Ariel from the Witch had been just the beginning, a payment in kind for what she had done before for him, not that he had thought of it so at the time or did even now. Yet it was. As she had risked her life for him, he had risked his for her. He understood that. He accepted it. He _wanted_ it, and he would do so again as many times as it took for her to be safe and happy. He understood that _no matter_ what price the world might demand of him, the young maiden in his arms was worth _infinitely_ more.

Thus, he wasn't about to let her down, and he wasn't about to let himself falter. He pushed the desire of sleep and food even farther from his mind. He drove the stinging fire in his back to the very edge of his awareness, blocking it out as much as he could. It took only the memory of her slender arms about him, the memory of her sweet voice in his ear, reassuring him while still miles away from the nearest shore in that strange, beautiful language of hers, to remind him … why it _had_ to be that way.

Kneeling and leaning down a few inches, he slipped his left hand down the back of Ariel's dress to the hollows of her knees, and with his right hand caught his little mermaid up into a bridal carry as carefully and gently as he could.

She gasped, her eyes leaping open. "Eric, no … _noo!_ I … I can stand now, I can _walk!_" she pleaded, reluctantly slipping her hands about his neck and shoulders to steady herself. "_Please_, at least let me _try_ to walk. I can bathe here in my room. I've done so before … just this morning!"

"I'm sorry love, I know you have, and I'm _proud_ of you, but we don't have much time, and I'm not going to take the chance of you falling again, especially on the stairs like before." He shifted her slightly in his arms, trying to support her back more with his right forearm. Even if she didn't like being carried then, he wanted for her to at least be comfortable. "I just want for you to be able to hear the waves and feel the sea breeze. The bathhouse is the best place for that, especially after dusk."

"But what use are my _legs_ if I never get to use them?" she complained, tears once again beginning to well up from her eyes.

"You have the most beautiful legs in the world … _little mermaid_." he quipped, smiling at himself as much as at her. He craned his neck slightly down and kissed her on the forehead and left temple, only to kiss away a tear just as it slid down her left cheek.

The kiss and compliment made her blush, as his sweet words so often did, but they seemed to miss or, even worse, intentionally avoid her point … which slightly annoyed her.

"But what good is it if I can't walk on my own?" she said, her shoulders falling what little they could in his arms. "It makes me feel so, so … _useless_."

"You're not _useless_ love, and you'll be walking and running again sooner than you can imagine.

"_How … how can you be so sure?"_ she whispered in a plaintive voice, her right hand darting from Eric's neck to her eyes to whisk away the wetness forming there.

Then it struck her – the certainty, the _confidence _that she had heard in his voice. Ariel narrowed her thin, delicately arched eyebrows, confused at her realization. _"Eric … is there … something that you're not telling me?"_

"_Only that I love holding you, carrying you …"_ he smiled, whispering back to her and kissing her forehead. _"… and having your heart so close to mine."_

The kiss and his words calmed her somewhat, along with the fact that she loved being carried by him, being held by him. She just wished that she could walk herself now, to be sure that she still could, that she was getting better after her fall.

"_I love you, Eric."_ she whispered, laying her head against his right shoulder.

"_I love you too, Ariel."_ he replied, echoing her whispered words, and ending his sentence with a silent kiss to her forehead.

With the same natural attention and discretion that young women most realize is a special ability of theirs soon after they become mothers, Carlotta listened and watched the two banter until the boy kissed her. Her eyes never once met Eric's, yet they followed both him and his young love. Her boy had managed a particular freshness with their princess that day, showering the girl with kisses and affection far beyond even the already normally excessive attentions he paid to her; and had that not seemed the perfect medicine for the girl's hurting heart, the Matron would have probably had a word or two about it with him.

Still … she _remembered_ what it had been like so long ago, when she herself had been in love, when she had been held, carried, and kissed … as though she were the sun itself at the center of Creation. How it had _felt_, to feel so loved, so _wanted_. Never could she deny that to their princess, their _angel_, for no other reason than her certainty that for Ariel, unlike herself … it _would _never end. How couldn't she then _smile_, at least a little, and take pride in the depth of Eric's love for their little castaway, his future wife.

Her eyes looked westward to the balcony where Aubrey now stood, looking out upon the barbicans and dusken seas beyond. She would be so glad when this day was done at last, when perhaps she too could find comfort and solace. Turning to the candles Aubrey had brought, she went about her duties.

Eric looked to Carlotta who was by then, busy lighting two other candles on the mantelpiece. "Lottie, when you can, would you please bring what she needs to wear down to the bathhouse?"

"You're not thinking of giving her that bath _yourself_, now, are you young man?" the Housekeeper chided, still not meeting her boy's eyes.

Ariel's eyes froze at the woman's words, then her gaze slowly slid upward to meet Eric's, her face turning a deep shade of pink, one that she hoped was hidden by the failing light that suffused the room with the day's end. Having learned the significance of clothing and the intimacy of the _bath_ to humans, even _she_ knew that what Carlotta was implying was at the very least, well, mischievous … if not _scandalous_.

In fact, it hadn't even _occurred_ to the former mermaid that Eric might remain with her while she was in such a state of exposure. As his eyes met hers, she ducked her head, smiling and trying desperately to suppress a sudden urge to giggle. He looked even more embarrassed than she _felt_ … and she felt _quite _embarrassed.

Eric couldn't help but notice how his love's cheeks had flushed so, and he too felt a fierce blush creeping upward through him. Seeing her struggling not to laugh made him feel warm inside, though, even as he struggled to answer the Housekeeper's question.

A little war played out within his heart. For the first time since he had offered her lemonade that morning, he saw something close to mirth twinkle in Ariel's eyes, happiness in this case, seemingly at his expense. He was more than willing to pay that price of course, but what Carlotta was implying had just … stunned him.

"_N … no_ _Lottie_, of course not." he began in a quiet, stammering voice that ended abruptly in a boyish squeak. "I wouldn't ever …"

Ariel fought the sudden urge to giggle again at the shocked expression on Eric's face, at the uncertain and embarrassed tone in his normally deep voice. He looked and sounded so sweet, and so cute, so much like an innocent young boy, which she knew … _he was_.

_Her _boy.

Her _human_ boy and _best friend_.

Her best friend whom she loved more than anyone else in existence.

Despite everything that had happened, despite how afraid she still was of what had happened and what was yet to come, she felt herself smiling, possessed with an overwhelming urge to shower her prince with kisses, he was so … so … adorable like this.

He looked back over his shoulder, "I'm just … going t … going to … _carry her down_."

Ariel peeked back, up and over Eric's shoulder at Carlotta as he did so, her breathtaking eyes of blue and striking bangs of crimson all to be seen of her in the rapidly fading light.

"Well, all right then." the Housekeeper laughed , smiling now at the two. "I'll be down in just minutes with her clothes and shoes."

Never for a moment had Grimaldi not trusted that Eric intended to treat the girl with honor; but wanting to take the opportunity to chide him a little for his presumptuousness that day, and maybe, to encourage a sweet and cheerful moment between him and his bride to be, she thought that her moment of mischief at her boy's expense was _quite_ in order.

The woman's reward had been the most beautiful and innocent expressions on both his and his lovely fiancée's faces as they had stared back, both with impossibly wide eyes, like a strong young buck and pretty little doe caught in a bull's-eye lantern's beam deep in the woods at midnight. Had the girl been smiling when she had looked back?

* * *

**~ Carrying a Mermaid ~**

It occurred to Ariel that this meant Eric would have to leave her again when they reached the bathhouse. Her smile faded slightly and her dry throat tightened as she felt the lump therein returning. Outside on the Quay and dock, Henrik Knudsen was still waiting for her.

Eric's eyes drifted then back to the girl who hung suspended in his arms, whom he was now carrying from her bedchamber. She was lowering her eyes now, her lips pursed in that heart-wrenchingly gorgeous soft pout of hers, biting her lower lip. Little pink toes occasionally peeked out from beneath the powder blue hem and soft white petticoat of her dress's skirts as they swayed against his left leg.

"_Oh, God, how beautiful she is." _he thought.

It was an entirely natural thought, and one he had had seemingly countless times before. In that same instant though, he caught himself, not wanting to take the sacred name in vain, even if just in title. Thus he carried his silent words forth as a prayer, so great was the young man's need to in some way, _any way …_ simply express how he _felt_.

"_Th … thank you. Thank you so much bringing her to me. I love her so much that I can't even find the words to express how I feel. But please … don't …don't let me lose her … please … don't take her away from me. Please …"_

Ariel raised her once again saddening eyes to meet his as he carried her from her room. The closest soldiers stood aside as he approached, with the other two men giving way back into to the Gallery. All four men fell in behind them after they passed. A shaggy mass of white and gray slipped quietly out of the room behind them, keeping up quietly at Eric's side.

Coming to the threshold of the stair, Eric looked down to the balcony that overlooked the Ballroom and quickly assessed the steps. The light of the dimming west was brighter below, but lanterns had already been lit. Soon, all the halls of the Christiansborg would be aglow with their evening flames.

Shifting his gaze to the former mermaid lying in his arms, he watched as her eyes were drawn back to his. He sensed a little blush in her as they met, before she once again lowered them, silent in his arms. Eric felt her long hair brush against his right arm and hip. He smiled softly at her.

With a careful step, Eric started down, wondering why Ariel was no longer meeting his gaze, but thankful for it simply because her eyes were so _distracting_. He needed to focus his full attention on the task at hand … delivering her safely down the stairs. His passenger … was precious, dearer to him than his own life, and he wouldn't allow her to be hurt, especially not through his own misstep.

Ariel was quiet, her thoughts shifting downward, watching every step as Eric took each stair one at a time. Not long ago, she had hurried, _flown_, down those same stairs, certain that she was soon to be wedded to her love.

She _still_ wasn't.

At least this day hadn't proven as bad as _that one_ almost had … though the worst might be yet to come.

With each tiny jostle she felt her feet and toes, her calves and thighs, brush against each other. They were so soft, felt so delicate, like the silk of the fine gowns that Carlotta always dressed her in. The very softness of her own skin _amazed_ her. In her old life beneath the sea, she had seldom if ever noticed it, but here in the dry air of the surface world, her flesh seemed to take on a consistency and smoothness not unlike the butter that she spread with jam upon her toasted bread in the mornings with Eric.

She wondered if Eric ever noticed it; if he _liked that_ about her. Certainly, _she_ did.

It felt so strange, to feel one part of her sliding against another part where once there had once been just a single tail, smooth, sleek, and powerful. She could have never felt the pink flesh of her right thigh and calf rub and glide against that of left.

Legs. Beautiful human legs. She had legs … and _feet_, and _toes!_ Beneath the hem of her dress, she lifted her right foot and ran it against the cool silk of her petticoat, closing her eyes at the feeling, letting herself remember that this was her bounty for all that she had suffered. Then she remembered that her true bounty was in the young human man who was now carrying her, and that her prince was almost as spent as she was.

She tried to be thankful. Her wish, her dream had come true. The man in whose arms she was now held had won it for her.

How long, though, could he continue like this? How long could _she_?

Eric could feel that some care had taken her, as though she wanted to speak, yet she remained silent. _"Ariel?"_ he whispered. _"Is something wrong?"_

As soon as he spoke, Eric felt like a fool. _Of course_ something was _wrong_. _Everything_ was wrong! His little mermaid had every reason not just to be troubled, but heartbroken, to be crushed by everything that had so far happened to her that day, and that was just _what she knew of_. She still knew nothing of what Aubrey had revealed to them about Østerby and the danger _he_ presented.

Ariel looked up at him, with something akin to worry, even fear, in her eyes.

Trying to recover, Eric went on. _"I mean right now. Is it just this whole awful day, or is it something else?"_

As he took each step with care, her head lolled against his shoulder, as though she had lost some inner argument that had been raging within her.

"_You seem so tired Eric."_ she said, her voice quiet, soft. _"Like before. I'm worried about you. You should be resting, not c ... carr … carrying me around." _The girl looked up at him, sniffing and rolling her head to her left to wick the moisture forming at her eyes away with Eric's collar. _"You'll get sick again."_

Eric considered her words, taking another step, then another until he finally reached the middle landing. To his left lay the stair leading down to the Ballroom floor, to his right stood the arched hallway that led to the lower guest rooms.

Ariel looked up. Not far across the landing though the far arch stood the pretty little parlor in which she had taken refuge that awful morning, that awful morning the Witch had come for her Eric.

Why had he stopped? He was looking in that direction, thinking. Was he instead taking her there? Just then, he turned to his left and began to descend the lower flight of stairs.

Rocking his princess in his arms, holding her fast against him, he spoke to her in the same soft voice he had been using so much that day. _"Ariel?"_

"_Yes?"_

"How did you feel when you brought me to shore?"

She looked at him, not understanding her beau's meaning, concentrating instead upon the sway that she felt in his stride, the hesitation in some of his steps. He leaned and even wavered slightly as he walked.

"When you saved my life." he paused. "The_ first _time."

"Eric, I … I don't understand…"

"Were you tired?"

Ariel stared back into his eyes … then nodded. As much as she didn't want to worry him, she couldn't lie. Even as a mermaid she had been _terrible_ at lying, and Eric had developed a sometimes uncanny ability to discern her thoughts, or at least her moods, especially when she was pensive or upset.

Had he begun to do so during their first ride together into the town and country, when her voice had been only a memory to both of them?

_"It's hard … hard to breathe … on the surface during storms."_ she answered in a quiet, haunted voice, as though the memory of what had happened that night remained troubling for her. _"Breathing sea water … it hurts so much when you're trying to breathe air and the waves hit you the wrong way."_

"And you were worried that you wouldn't make it to shore?"

"_I was worried that you were going to die. It was so hard keeping your head above the water because of the waves. I kept having to remind myself."_ she said softly, then continued in a guilty whisper. _"At first it wasn't hard, swimming with you, but the waves were so huge, and you're so big … and I'm … I'm not."_

"_After swimming for a while, my tail and arms just grew so sore, and tired."_ She lowered her head against his shoulder again. _"I didn't think that I would make it, that you would make it."_

"But you _did_, even though you were exhausted, even though there might have been sharks." he replied.

She gave him a pained expression, having thought enough about sharks already today. "I didn't have a choice, _I had to_. I couldn't just let you _drown_."

"And I … Ariel … can't just let you _fall_." he replied in a soft voice, smiling at her. "… even if I'm tired, even if I'm exhausted." he finished, stepping out onto the Dance Hall floor.

Back and to his right stood a dark hallway, its entrance arch partially concealed by curtains.

She looked back at him, a slightly embarrassed smile tugging at her lips as she realized where he had brought her with his words.

Sometimes he could be so clever.

… and _sweet_.

* * *

_**Acknowledgments and Credits:**_

_**Cover Art:**__The cover art remains "Ariel" by scarlettiwater deviantart com._

_The link to the original is scarlettiwater deviantart com/art/Ariel-296039838_

_**Creative Contributions:**_

_Many moments that I imagine in Ariel and Eric's lives together have already been captured so beautifully by other authors that I could never better them. More importantly, I would rather honor those wonderful stories and moments by instead alluding to them in my own. _

_In this case, Crisis Rose's "Keep Holding On" and "Broken Strings," alongside TardisBlueMermaid's "Fallen Angel," and Converse R Life's "Altered Reality" are on my mind and in my heart. Likewise, "Why Does it Burn" by Hatter and Hare Productions and Uncia's gorgeous "Voyages" weren't far either as I was considering Ariel's thoughts on fire and human life._

_If not directly referenced, some parts of "Precious Things" were almost certainly influenced and inspired (as usual) by these young ladies' amazing stories. The former two have both been writing again after being quiet for so long. I highly recommend that you take a while to look at their work, you won't regret it._

_And if you like lots of kisses, you can't do much better than "Just One More Kiss" and "Dandelion Fluff."_

_And while I'm at it, I just have to mention my love for "Under the Bright Blue Endless Sky" and "Waves in Motion," because they are just such wonderful stories too, and probably have influenced me one way or another. I love them both!_


	24. Chapter 22 - Just Two Steps

**Author's Note: **_Hello all. It's been a while since I last published a chapter for Sael, and this delay is largely due to the restriction on my available time due to classes. As the holiday season approaches, I hope to take advantage of more unencumbered time to finish the next two chapters of Sael, along with at least one of my other stories. Writing, however, is a slow (and long, as you may have realized) endeavor for me. My hope is that you find this little interlude as enjoyable to read as I found writing it. It came as something of a surprise, but fitting given the importance to Ariel and Eric of what is happening. _

_Things of worth never come easily._

**_Forums:_**_ I am now posting additional essays and supplemental information regarding the world of "Ariel's Isle" in my forums. So far, most of the information therein was previously located in my profile, which I have now shortened. This will change as I add new essays. There are several categories. Please "follow" if you wish to receive updates when new material is posted. Functional hyperlinks are at the top of my profile, but FanFiction strips them out when I try to include them in the story._

https /www fanfiction net/myforums/Axantur/5311978/

**_Publication Date: _**_Tuesday, November 15th, 2016. __(Author's notes updated Sunday, November 27th, 2016)_

* * *

**Sael**

**Chapter 22 – Just Two Steps**

**_~~~ Saturday, the _****_16_****_th of November, 1805 AD ~~~_**

**_~ 6:22 _****_p.m. ~_**

**_Christiansborg Palace – Christiansted, Sankt Croix_**

* * *

Gulls cried in the distance, their voices followed by the mewling of a hundred others. Sleek shapes and outspread wings hung darkly in the air, silhouetted against the western sky and its mid-November sun, a sun that had now sunken into the western hills.

The freshening breeze had grown steadily stronger throughout the afternoon, churning Prince Frederik's bay into a tumult of frothing gray and blue. Above the palace at the pinnacles of its lofty towers, pennants and steamers coursed and snapped, sending the colors and devices of the ancient House of Oldenburg, Prince Frederik, and Prince Christian into long shuddering waves and wide rolling turns.

Waves that had just that morning been but ripples upon an azure sea had by now grown into great rollers, rollers that crashed and pounded at the bases of three marvelous piers of cut stone block that together held aloft the Skywalk Colonnade. For ages far beyond mortal ken, the sea had ground and eaten at those rocks, wearing them down, slowly stripping to sand the great vein of half-submerged mottled stone that underlay them.

Only there, beneath the palace at Frederik's Point, could such an outcropping be found along the entire length of that shore, though the rest of the isle was not entirely devoid of them. The breathtaking hillside town of Printsensbakke, for example, called at times "Southgate" by its English-speaking population, sat half-perched upon such a formation.

Four great towers anchored the Christiansborg into the vein of bedrock below. The east and west towers along the south wall were nearly twins, looking out upon the nearby towns, while the North Tower looked out upon the Skywalk Colonnade and the Sea beyond. The fourth tower was the broad Keep, wherein the Prince's apartments were located. The oldest element of the edifice, its foundations lay upon the footings and cellars of the fortress that had earlier commanded those grounds. In beauty as well as goodness, it had proven much an improvement. Thereupon stood also a great hall, the length and face of which ran long from south to north, overlooking the generous haven that Danish workmen had blasted out from the rocks. It was in the uppermost western end of this structure wherein a little mermaid had found her first welcome and home in the human world.

Eigtved's original inspiration for the Palace had been a dream, for in a dream it had come to him, or so had gone the tale that he had spun at parties. Such dreams, though, they never long endure. There is always a waking, always a struggle to remember the vision of the eidolon, much less its meaning.

There had been a succession … a coronation. Fashions and tastes had changed. Rococo surrendered to the late Baroque, and that as well to the classical revival that swept Europe from the middle of the century onward. Fame and fortune, they forgot old Nicolai Eigtved. The reaper came.

All of the years, all of the changes in circumstance and taste, nothing had so transformed Eigtved's vision as much as the death of the Master Builder himself, for much that he had imagined … had remained in his mind alone.

When the dispatches reporting the existence of a fine bounty of solid stone had finally arrived back in the Charlottenborg Slot, their accompanying surveys and drawings had found only an empty office.

For a time, the designs were lost.

The Time of Struensee came … and went.

It was the commission of the Regent and Eric's father, the Hereditary Prince Frederik that once again set into motion the actual _construction_ of the Caribbean extravagance that would become the Christiansborg Slot, at first known as "Frederik's Palae." Before his installment, the prince had sought out the then Royal Building Master Nicolas-Henri Jardin to adjudge the edifice. Surveys and information concerning building materials and their availability were sought from Sankt Croix. Occupied with competing demands, Jardin instead sent his one of his underlings to seek inspirations for a new design in the archives.

After much searching and a little bit of chance, Eigtved's original designs were rediscovered. Upon first seeing them Jardin was entranced by the bold, imaginative lines that the great man had long before laid down, though he knew instantly that many elements would have to be sacrificed upon the altar of the architectural sensibilities of the late eighteenth century.

Nevertheless, as much as he could preserve, he did.

Despite the austerities following Struensee, work began and continued, funded mainly by the Prince's own purse. Duties upon the Isles' "white gold" paid for much of it, a fact to which the Hereditary Prince remained mostly indifferent, but one that much distressed the palace's later inhabitants. By 1776 it was estimated that, at the previous rate of construction, the palace's exterior would require fifteen years to finish, and its interior another fifteen years. Reports concerning its progress arrived in Copenhagen every few months, as both seas and ships permitted.

Jardin's successor, the "Palladio of Denmark," Caspar Frederik Harsdorff, saw at last to its completion, assigning the project's direct supervision to the rising architect for the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, Christian Frederik Hansen. Although finished nearly four years ahead of schedule, the man never saw the finished marvel in its full glory.

* * *

**~ The Breath of Autumn Dusk ~**

Jens and Anders slipped by the prince, Anders taking the sides of the passageway and drawing back the curtains that hid it from the Ballroom while Jens took the lead and inspected the passage with care. The lanterns thereabout had already been lit, half a dozen on either side of the broad hall. The faint scent of perfumed oil filled the still air.

"_Good."_ Jens thought, looking at the lanterns and considering the deepening dusk outside. _"That's one less thing to worry about."_

The cornflower blue field and russet lines of the carpet beneath his feet seemed darker in the flickering shadows. As he passed, Jens considered the many vases and busts of men unknown to him that stood still upon low pillars along its length, every one of them no doubt worth more than he would be paid in a year, _"…in many years." _he lamented, his mind drifting and just for a moment imagining Gertrude Elise smiling at him. Paintings adorned the walls in gilded frames, surrounded by settings brushed with what must have been a wash of gold.

Like the Skywalk Colonnade itself, the passage stood as an ornament with which to decorate the palace, a further extravagance for the many imagined lucrative guests who never came to visit its former master, a former master who himself … had never even once looked upon the strand upon which it stood.

"_A pity."_ Jens mused to himself as he reached the twin doors at the hallway's end. For a moment, his thoughts returned to home, marveling at how different this grand dwelling was from his family's house in Odense. A dim red light filtered into the hall from the windows at its end, brightening it somewhat beyond the light of the oil lanterns. Anders joined Jens just as the younger soldier threw open the doors. A sharp, crisp breeze and the sound of a battering surf flooded in.

The sky outside was darkening. In the west, wispy tendrils of silver cloud blushed a symphony of mauves, purples, and fading reds. The eastern Caribbean skies had already grown black, for the moon would not rise until early the coming morning. It would be a dark and blustery night.

"_Ahh."_ the older man breathed. _"Best air I' tasted all day lon'." _

Turning back, he spoke to Lund_"Jens, ye' kin le' th' Prince know 'tis safe." _

"_Aye. That I will."_

* * *

**~ Of Pebbles ****and**** Mermaids' Feet ~**

Lantern flames flickered in the evening drafts of the Ballroom. In the distance, a clock much larger and grander than the one in the Gallery above could be heard shepherding by the hours.

The soldiers Thomsen and Lund had slipped ahead into the hallway, leaving Eric and Ariel guarded by Privates Beck and Brandt. The latter two stood a goodly distance out on the Ballroom floor away from the Prince and his betrothed, affording them a moment of privacy.

It seemed, well, a natural and decent thing to do.

Max, oblivious to even the concept of privacy, let alone anyone's need for it, pranced about Eric's feet before deciding that his master had stopped for some reason, the Girl from the Sea safely suspended in his arms. The earlier smell of her fear had lessened somewhat, which made it easier for the dog to stop and rest. Max sat on the floor beside his Master and his Master's Mate, waiting for what might come next, suspecting that the master was going to give the Girl from the Sea a bath, just as he often did with him. That, at least, was how they both smelled – as if it was bath-time.

Prince Eric stood at the arched passageway leading out to the Skywalk with Ariel cradled against him. The pain in his back had begun to lessen from the moment she had broken out earlier into that beautiful smile of hers. Her very happiness, even such a fleeting moment of it, seemed healing to him.

After yet another silent fit of warm blushing, which happened to her often with Eric, Ariel watched as his gaze drifted downward, passed across her tummy to her skirts, and finally settled upon the dangling hem of her white petticoat. He didn't seem alarmed or upset. What had drawn his attention? Had he noticed the patterns of seashells sewn into them? When she herself had first noticed them last night, the former mermaid had felt such happiness and joy at the recognition and acceptance of who and what she was, who and what she had _been_. It had been so sweet of Carlotta to do that for her! However, maybe that wasn't it. Could there instead something be wrong with _her_? Her eyes rose again to meet his.

A playful smirk grew upon his face and in his eyes. "Not just your legs, little mermaid." he quipped, his smile broadening now as he rocked her gently in his arms, her head still laid against his right shoulder.

" … _w … what?"_ she asked in the soft voice she had spoken in most of the day, her eyes widening and an innocent look something akin to self-conscious concern suffusing her countenance.

"You have beautiful toes too. The _most beautiful_ toes … _perfect toes_."

Her jaw dropped slightly as she realized that she was blushing even more furiously. She looked away as quickly as she could to the nearest convenient distraction, that distraction being of course … her toes.

With hardly a thought, she _wiggled _them … and smiled. One, two, three, four, five … ten. Yes. Five on each little foot! They were all still there. Ten tiny, delicate, beautiful toes peeking out from beneath the petticoat and pale blue skirts of her day dress. Ariel knew for a fact _how _delicate they were by the practice she had received at injuring them, this being but one reason she had been so thankful for the wonderful human invention … of shoes.

The moment that he saw her do so, saw her wiggle her pretty little toes, Eric couldn't contain the urge to smile even more brightly. A soft, sweet laugh escaped him, and one that he punctuated by once again placing another soft kiss on his fiancée's forehead; this being the only place that he _could_ kiss given her current location suspended in his arms.

"_I … I do?"_ she responded, looking up at him as she closed her eyes at his kiss. Eric was _always _making her _blush_, and she was sure that he did it quite on purpose, but in truth if she had any misgivings about how this made her feel, it was only that someday it might _end_; and she _never_ wanted it to end. She never wanted her time with _him_ to end. That thought, that fear alone … made her want to cry.

As to his compliment on the supposed beauty of her toes, the former mermaid didn't quite know what to say. She often felt guilty or at the very least self-conscious about being so praised for something that she had done absolutely nothing to earn, when many girls far better than she, meran and human alike, hadn't been as lucky to have had such beautiful parents.

"_Ariel …"_ he asked, his voice softening and a look of worry beginning to overtake his former smile._ "Did I say something wrong?"_

"_No, it's just that … you're making me blush."_ she whispered,still smiling while keeping her eyes down, her head still resting upon his shoulder. _"You always do."_

"Oh." He paused, seeming to take a moment to think as he continued to rock her gently in his arms. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Shaking her head softly, she furrowed her delicate brow. "N … no. It's just that, well, I don't des … I … I mean, I can't help it if I …"

"_I beg your pardon, your Highness,"_ Jens Lund interrupted, pulling the curtain back from the other side of the archway. "And begging your pardon as well, Princess, but the passageway and skywalk are clear and safe."

A movement above caught Eric's eye.

On the stairs, Carlotta had appeared, bringing with her a new day dress of pale cream, matching shoes, and other feminine things presumably required to reissue their former mermaid back into the human world following her imminent bath. A few steps above her followed Aubrey Beauclerk.

"Thank you Private Lund. We'll be along shortly." Eric replied to the soldier, nodding as he did so.

Ariel's gaze followed Eric's, as it now often did, in this case over his right shoulder and upward the stairs above them. Should she be embarrassed that Carlotta had obviously seen Eric's unabashed flirtation with her, or comforted seeing how the woman who was practically Eric's mother smiled at them?

"Oh, go on ahead you two! Don't wait for me. I'll be there in just a moment." Carlotta admonished, having taken a few silent steps down the stairs to observe her little boy and foundling girl enjoying and getting to know each other. While it wasn't "courting" as most people thought of it, the two were certainly learning more _about _each other this awful day, more than most couples knew for many years after they married. _"If there's to be a silver lining to all of this mess, perhaps it's that." _she thought.

"Thank you Carlotta." Turning his attention fully to his fiancée once again, Eric continued. "Speaking of toes, are you ready to use yours again?" A hopeful mirth played at the edge of his words.

The question surprised Ariel. Was she just imagining things or did Eric seem to be feeling better? No, he did! She was almost _certain_ of it! She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, hoping that her observation wasn't just her own exhausted and desperately hopeful mind deceiving her.

"O ... _Oh!_" the former mermaid stammered, suddenly realizing that she was going to get to try to walk again.

"Eric, won't she need her shoes?"

"Not yet, let's wait until after her bath. I think that she'll be able to balance better without them at first." he replied, smiling back at the Housekeeper, mischief dancing in his eyes. "We'll get her sealegs back … bare feet first."

"_Sea … legs?"_ the girl asked, looking up at him, her thin crimson eyebrows knitting together once again as she tried to make sense of the words. To the former mermaid, the juxtaposition of the words "sea" and legs" seemed a most unlikely and even unfathomable combination.

Eric nodded and smiled once again, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll explain, love ... I promise." he replied, smiling, feeling more of the pain in his back beginning to subside. It seemed that just moving about and getting his blood flowing after being so still and confined was working wonders for him; but the deep feeling of exhaustion lingered.

"First, I'm going to set you down, and then we'll walk out to the bathhouse together." He paused to look intently into her eyes, to see if she was ready for what he was suggesting. There was some hesitation, but that wasn't a surprise after the ordeal through which she had suffered that day. "Are you ready, love? You walked again just a little while ago. You can do even better this time."

The confidence in his voice, just the way he that encouraged her, it made her heart leap. Oh, how she loved it when he did so! Moreover, he_ always_ did so. He was _right _too. Nothing had changed at all since she had stood and walked with his help in her room above. All that he had done was to carry her down the stairs, guarding her from falling upon them.

Looking down at her toes and then the floor below, Ariel nodded, and then looked back up at Eric. "Eric, should we watch out for _peb … pebbles_?"

"Pebbles?" Eric paused as his mind caught up with her question.

Ariel nodded innocently.

It was an odd concern, Eric thought, suppressing a grin before it began; but not odd, perhaps, for a former mermaid.

"Yes, we will," he answered, wanting to reassure her, but also to better understand her thoughts. "But why do you think that there might be pebbles on the Skywalk, love?

In her seven weeks of humanity, Ariel had discovered how to stub her perfect new toes in almost every conceivable way, learned that stones and sharp objects hurt unshod feet, and that one could badly bruise one's foot by rushing down the stairs too quickly, even while wearing rather fine shoes. The delicateness of her small, slender feet and tenderness of their soft soles had, if anything, made those lessons even more unpleasant than they might have normally been. Only sandy shores and grassy fields had proven safe for running about barefoot, which she loved; thus, Ariel had come to love those places above all others. Moreover, of course, there was within her a natural affinity between her heart and the sea. Over the past few weeks, Eric had made sure that he took her to visit these places as often he could.

She felt a blush of embarrassment rising within her, nearly causing her to forget the reason for her worry. Often, Ariel would ask a question only to then realize by Eric's response, especially his expression or by the look in his eyes, that the answer must be something known to most humans. Never was he malicious in so doing, he had never even once been so with her in any way. In fact, he often caught her up in his arms in such instances, kissing her even as he smiled and laughed, making them not entirely unwelcome occurrences to her either. Still, it sometimes made her feel somewhat foolish, like now, even though she hung already suspended this time in his arms and cradled against his chest, her arms wrapped around his right shoulder and neck.

"_Isn't …" _she started, looking toward the curtains, finally forcing the words out, _"… isn't it stone?"_

"Yes, it is." Eric nodded. "Have you found pebbles out there before?"

Had she? As much as she tried to concentrate, she couldn't recall. She shook her head, blushing now in the steady golden light of the wall lanterns that hung above either side of the archway leading out to the Skywalk. Out of an inexplicable sense of desperation, though, Ariel felt compelled to defend her concern. _"No, but … maybe the waves might have broken some of it?" _she offered softly.

As far as Eric knew, the waves had never reached nearly such lofty heights about the Christiansborg Slot since his commission, his exile, to Sankt Croix had begun over three years ago. Yet the rain, the sun, and the wind could indeed crack and wear stone, more so in the wintry north than in these sunny climes. Yes, but even here it happened. How, though, could his little mermaid know that? He smiled, musing at how her innocent question must reflect not just a natural concern for the well-being of her new feet and toes, but a curiosity about how the offending little rocks came into being in the first place, as well as where she should learn to be wary of them. Eric had found that Ariel's mind often worked in such ways, and he had learned to love her all the more for her gentle insight and curiosity, hoping only that he might prove worthy of such a clever and inquisitive mind.

It was then that Eric realized that he didn't really _know_, nor had he really ever studied the Skywalk and its slates to see if there might actually be broken pieces. In his many ventures onto it, he had never noticed any. Looking into Ariel's eyes, he found there a beautiful, defensive look, one that insisted and now hoped … that she might have a point.

"We'll look together, love." he said, smiling softly as he began to lower her legs to the floor. "To be honest, I don't think that I've ever looked closely."

Ariel smiled back at him brightly. It made her feel so, so … happy … that he took her thoughts seriously. Her moment of gentle satisfaction didn't last though. Ariel grew tense and clung more tightly to Eric as she felt him lowering her legs while at the same time raising her back, until she felt her much-discussed toes at last alight on the cool, polished stone of the Ballroom floor. Her eyes darted between his face and her feet, soon obscured by the cascading hem of her petticoat and dress's skirt.

As he lowered her, Eric slid his right hand gradually down to her waist until after a moment; she was standing nearly straight up, though still supported by Eric's hands, now both securely about her waist. "Now, I've still got you, but try to tighten your leg muscles again and lock your knees love, just like you did in your room."

Biting her lower lip, she devoted her full concentration to her legs. Ariel imagined herself straightening her tail, until she felt her knees go straight, the muscles in her calves, thighs and hips all working together to hold her erect. She was surprised how much easier it was than she had expected it to be. In some ways, the muscles of both _felt_ _the same_, but the sinuous column of bone at the heart of a mermaids tail could never fully mimic the complexity of knees and hips as needed for a human to stand. Still, she found that the mental exercise actually helped quite a bit.

"That's _wonderful_ love. Now, shift all of your weight onto your legs and feet. I've still got you."

Allowing her body to press down upon her legs, Ariel felt the tension grow in her hips, her thighs, her calves. Her knees wavered a bit.

"_There."_ he whispered, bringing his lips once again to touch her forehead. _"You're standing on your own. I'm so proud of you, Ariel."_

She looked up at him and smiled, her heart feeling so warm and happy. She really _was _standing on her own,though as he had before, her love seemed to keep his hands lightly about her waist, perhaps in case she wavered.

"Now ..." he began, adopting a playfully regal air. "Would you like to accompany me out to the bathhouse, milady?"

Instead of words, she replied by laying herself against him, and placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek, rewarding him for the many that he had given her. Drawing back, she simply looked up at him, into his eyes, and nodded. She was smiling, even more so than when she had stood before, almost as happily as she had when he had introduced her earlier to the joys of lemonade.

What he might only describe as a surge of pure elation suffused Eric seeing her thus. Once again, he considered how long it must be until they at last wed. April of next year seemed an eternity to wait, all while he and she were so ready now to become husband and wife. Shifting his hands to her lower arms, he set about guiding her through the rest of her recovery.

"All right, let's get you turned around." Tightening his grip about her waist, Eric both coaxed and helped Ariel to turn back toward the arch. "Easy, love, easy. _There, that's it!_" Eric said as he slowly withdrew his two hands from Ariel's waist. "Good. That's perfect! Now, let's take that first step."

Ariel focused her thoughts on her legs, willing the right forward, yet after only a few seconds the former mermaid felt her knees begin to weaken and then shake. _"I … I can't." _She quickly leaned back into Eric. Before she reached him, however, the girl felt his sure hands once again about her waist.

Her words struck the young prince like a swift slap. He had _never _heard his adventurous little mermaid use that word, _"can't,"_ with such certainty and despair as she had just now, as she had _today_, especially after her encounter with Østerby.

"It's all right. I've _got _you." Eric said, trying to soothe her with his voice. "You aren't going to fall; and _yes …_ you_ can_."

Ariel looked up into her fiancé's eyes, seeking just his reassurance more than his words. It was there, that odd certainty in his gaze, in the set of his jaw, the way his dark eyebrows furrowed with that determination that was uniquely his. Oh, how she loved that about him, that surety, that easy confidence! Now, though, _she_ was its object. Perhaps she _could _walk. She wasn't going to fall; he had said so, several times now. No, he wouldn't let her, and she knew that if he were with her that he would _never _let her fall again.

Still, she _hesitated_. She wanted to try and thought that at the very least that she might be able to move her legs again. She _was_ in control of _that_, of them to an extent, but when she had tried to stand on her own she felt as though she might tip over and topple to one side.

"I c ... ca …"

"_Can_."Eric interjected in a gentle yet entirely uncompromising voice. "_Can walk." _

He took a quiet breath. "… all the way to the bathhouse … all the way out the Skywalk."

Ariel looked up at him again, her eyes glistening with tears threatening to be born.

Eric leaned over, bringing his lips to her forehead, causing her to close her eyes even as he closed his. As she did so, he loosened his hands about her waist and brought his lips to each of her closed eyes, first her left, then her right, kissing away the moisture that he found gathering there.

"No more tears, love." he continued in the softest voice as he pulled back slightly and they both drew open their eyes. "This is going to get better, starting _now_. Besides …" he paused a playful smile once again working its way across his lips "it's just two steps."

"_T … two steps?"_ she whispered, her eyes widening. _"But … it must be a hundred."_

Eric smiled softly at the confusion in her eyes. His play with idioms while speaking to her had become a secret little vice of his – they always brought such a beautiful mystified air to her countenance. Her sweet innocence seemed to him so amazing and breathtaking in such moments that he couldn't help but enjoy them and hope for even more. "It's just an expression love. It means that it's not that far. And, by the way, you're standing on your own again."

Looking down to her waist and beyond, the former mermaid found herself poised on her own two legs and feet, with Eric's hands only lightly clasping her waist. He was right; she was standing once again entirely on her own. As her gaze rose to meet his once again, she felt a weak smile tickling at her lips.

"There." Eric paused, looking into her eyes. "Ariel, you can make it. You can walk just as you showed me you could upstairs. Just try, if not for yourself, then for me."

Ariel closed her eyes, feeling her heart beginning to race, and then opened them again. Why was she still so afraid despite being nearly in Eric's arms? Was it her fear of falling? Yes, _absolutely_ it was, yet she knew that Eric would never let her fall if he could help it. So, why had her fear erupted again within her?

Then, she realized, _why _she was afraid. If she took that first new step, she would have to step _out _of Eric's embrace, the very comfort that was buoying her up in the midst of everything that had assailed her that day. His touch was what was sustaining her, and had not left her since she had regained her senses in his arms in her bedroom, his soft, deep voice soothing her in song.

She shuddered, begging him in a whisper, _"Please don't let me g …"_

"_You already know that I won't." _Eric interrupted in an equally soft whisper,his hands tightening reassuringly about her waist once again.

Ariel's thoughts focused on the feeling of her arm smashing into the wooden floor of her bedroom. She lowered her eyes to the dark polished stone floor, clenching them shut in dread as she imagined how it would feel to crash into cold, hard stone, _"I … I'm afraid."_ she whispered in embarrassment, hating the thought of how useless and weak she must seem to him.

That wasn't how she was, or _was it_? Had she been like this before she had met the young man who now held her like a little guppy? Had she _always_ been like this, vulnerable, yet unable to see herself as she truly was, fleeing into her father's arms when things grew beyond her ability to confront or withstand, and now into Eric's?

If so, was that … wrong?

Save for being twice struck unconscious two and three years ago, neither of which she could remember fully, Ariel realized that never before had she suffered so painful an injury, and it could have been much worse. She could have instead broken her arm or struck her neck or head, against which both Carlotta and Eric had direly warned her. In her former life, the waters had offered a forgiving cushion, much like the soft blankets, pillows, and mattress of her new bed. No injury that she could remember had even drawn her blood. Indeed, in all of her experiences and adventures Ariel had been unbelievably fortunate in that regard. This new adventure, however, her new life as a human girl, was proving less forgiving, first with the Ulusûlêth, and now with this.

"_I know that you are, love, but you needn't be."_ Eric said, his voice calming and soft, only a little louder than her own._ You're safe, Ariel, I promise. I won't let you fall … and I won't let you go."_

Ariel listened to his words, but heard in them more than just the sound of his voice. It was so different than the other voice, the one that reminded her now at every turn, at every halting step, of her mistakes, her _sins_ against her people, her sisters, her father … against Eric. Her _own_ voice. The one that was so _right_ ... the one that knew every wrong that she had ever done.

"_Let's take that step, love."_ he whispered, taking her left hand into his while keeping his right hand steady at her slender waist.

Drawing in a deep breath, Ariel nodded and opened her eyes, wanting nothing more than to collapse again against Eric and hide within his arms.

She didn't.

Instead, she fought the urge, fought the terrible upwelling of fear that rose within her, and confident that Eric's hand held hers firmly in its gentle grasp, and that his right hand remained there upon her waist, she lifted her right foot and let herself fall forward.

_Falling. _

That is what walking felt like now to the former mermaid – something like falling. With her step, she fell forward, but it really _wasn't_ a fall. It was both more and less. However, it hadn't been this way _before_. She had _known_ how to do this, and it had seemed so easy to her. Only a few hours after Eric had discovered her nigh lifeless form upon the shore, after she had awakened in pain and disoriented in her strange new bedroom, after the lingering agony of her transformation and the burns of the sun had faded, she had stood for the first time, and taken her first step.

No … steps.

She had taken steps! After but a little while it had seemed simple, so increasingly natural to her – walking, even in the pretty pink shoes that Carlotta had set upon her feet beneath her equally pretty gown.

Except …

She didn't fall.

Instead, she felt the toes, then the sole of her right foot alight on the cool, polished stone of the floor beneath her, and before she completely realized what had happened, she had drawn her left leg up beside it. She had taken a step. One little step.

"That's_ wonderful, _love!" Ariel felt Eric's hand tighten for a moment about her own as she looked first to him, then down to the floor. Then she felt his warmth grow close to her on her left, a soft peck alighted atop her head as Eric pressed his lips gently against her. Once again, a hopeful smile began to kindle in her eyes, spreading to her lips as she realized that she had actually taken a step almost completely on her own.

Looking to her left, she found Eric's shining eyes looking into hers, and a gentle, loving smile suffusing his visage that caused her heart to race a little more than even it had been. More precisely, it was a smile that caused her heart to flutter.

Leaning close by her left ear, he whispered into it_, "I mean it when I say that I'm proud of you."_ He then drew away from her again, keeping gentle hold of her hand and waist.

Ariel followed his eyes with her own, blushing slightly at first, then even more; but she hadn't really stopped blushing since he had first lifted her into his arms up above in her bedchamber.

Behind him, Ariel realized that there were two other figures standing quietly nearby, watching both her and Eric. Her eyes met Carlotta's as she realized that there were actually six other people present and they had seen and heard everything.

"Bless you, honey." the older woman said, smiling, "That was such a beautiful sight to see."

"Yes, my dear. Quite lovely." Aubrey added.

Then her eyes met those of the two soldiers, who now stood before her, holding open the hangings that demarked the hallway beyond. Both of them were watching her, the younger man especially with a sad, even pitying look in his eyes.

Something warm and soft brushed the toes of her right foot where it peeked out from beneath the light blue hem and white petticoats of her dress, causing her to look down.

Sitting beside her was Max, the hint of blue eyes not entirely hidden between the long shock of gray and white fur that fairly covered his face.

"Another, love." Eric said, his request as gentle and as sweet as he could make it.

Ariel smiled down at Max, and then looked briefly to Eric. Raising her head and closing her eyes, she struggled to remember … how.

She had just taken a step, but still, she struggled to remember the _rhythm _that had once before come to her so clearly; for walking … had a rhythm to it. In a way, it was like a song, or had been. Just hours ago she had been able to hear it clearly in her heart and mind, and like her mother, if there was anything at which Ariel was naturally adept, it was the graceful exercise of rhythm, melody, harmony, and song. To her, these things were like swimming, like, like breathing. Then she realized that they _had_ been, for while she could breathe air, she could no longer breathe water … nor could she swim. Her heart began to race faster in her breast as her breaths became noticeably shorter, and shallower.

Lund and Thomsen, Beck and Brandt, each man stood still nearby, holding his breath as Princess Ariel took her first step under Eric's careful guard. None dared to speak or hardly even move as she put her diminutive foot right forward.

The glimpse of a lady's foot, much less a princess's, was a rare sight to behold, Jens thought. Perhaps, though, this must be the rarest of all sights that one might see, the slender feet and toes … of a mermaid. Despite the look of terror that suddenly filled the girl's eyes as she did so, her forward movement had held a certain grace to it, even in the way that she flailed for an instant at its end as she regained her balance. The effect was subtle yet mesmerizing, as so much about the young maiden was.

Jens fought the urge to set his musket aside and offer his hand to encourage her. His mind assured him that this task was Eric's, and Eric's alone; but when had he ever seen a lady in such need and not done everything that he possibly could to help? As though snapping out of a daydream, Jens wondered at the strange thought, and more importantly, the even stranger feeling that had accompanied it.

"_What 're ye doin' Jens?"_ Anders voice came as a whisper from his right. Jens looked up, regaining his senses. Looking back to his left, he saw his infantermuskett upright against the arch, with him standing now half a dozen feet from it. How, when, had he left it there? Then he realized that his right hand _was_ held outstretched, its palm open and facing upward. His eyes traced the length of his forearm to his fingertips, until they came to rest at last upon the eyes of the Princess. She was staring back at him, a questioning look caught in sorrowful eyes.

Eric's gaze followed hers.

Beck, Brandt, each was staring at him as though he were a fool. What was he doing? What had he been thinking? Turning back to Thomsen, he saw a similar though far less severe, look in the older soldier's eyes. Jens blanched and began to take a step back, his gaze meeting Eric's, regretful at his intrusion into such a delicate matter between him and the Princess.

"No, Jens," Eric said in a soft voice, holding up his left hand to stay him. "Stay if you wish."

Looking back to Ariel, the young Private thought that her breaths seemed increasingly labored beyond what they had been just moments ago. Was Eric aware?

A soft whine rose up from the floor near the hem of the Princess's gown as Max cried and brushed up gently against her right leg, causing her to look down. A tear cascaded down her cheek, striking the dog on his dark nose.

"Ariel, what's wrong?" Eric asked, nestling closer against his confused fiancée. She was breathing more quickly now, causing him to worry that she might once again be panicking.

Ariel looked first to Eric, then to Jens. He had called the young soldier by his first name, as if the man was a friend. She had already known from her love's many stories how deeply Eric cared for his soldiers and fellow sailors, the men who protected and served him, and now, her.

_Eric._

He was so … so much like her, she thought, preferring his name so much to his title, regarding others as no less than himself. And the young soldier, his name was _Jens_.

"I can't remember, remember … how ... to walk. I … I can't even remember how to swim." she choked.

"You will." Eric enfolded his arms about her. "Because I'm going to teach you myself, and this is all going to pass, I promise."

The former mermaid looked up to him, meeting his gaze with hers. "But … I …"

"I'm a much better swimmer when I'm not unconscious, remember?" he smiled as two fingers of his left hand touched her lips, gently hushing her. "Do you remember when we walked about the palace the evening we that we finally met?" he asked, gently withdrawing his fingers.

"Yes." she whispered, leaning into him. "It was one of the most wonderful nights of my life." Ariel thought back to that evening now only two months passed, that evening that now seemed so very long ago. She had worn a gown of pink silk and been so proud of herself when she had approached him in the Dining Hall without even a single slip or stumble. The look in his eyes, his sweet words greeting her had set her face ablush and her heart aflutter. After dinner, they had walked, together, him showing her a little of the palace, with her asking a thousand silent questions. There had been so many new and amazing sights, so many beautiful and intricate things of which to learn the names and uses. Sometime afterwards, it hadn't seemed long enough, she had grown tired and less steady in her steps as a result. Eric, though, had held her arm in his and helped her back to her bedchamber and into Carlotta's care. It had been their first walk together.

Eric nodded. 'And we're going to have many more of them. You're very close to walking again Ariel, just as you were then. Just a few steps and I think it will come back to you."

"You do?" the former mermaid looked at him in wonder.

"Yes. Are you willing to try again? You've already made your first step, and it was beautiful."

"It was? But, I stumbled and …"

"I think that it was the prettiest step I've ever seen a girl take."

Ariel stopped, looking into his eyes, finding there only a look of sincere admiration. How could her step have been … pretty? She had almost fallen, hadn't she? The look in Eric's eyes slowly changed to one imploring her to try once again.

Those eyes, blue like the endless pale sky on a clear, bright day. She couldn't disappoint him, he had so much faith in her, and she couldn't resist him when he looked at her so. Oh, how she _loved_ him. Lowering her eyes, she relented, nodding her head and taking a deep breath.

"_Good!"_ whispered, pulling her close into a quick but warm hug from which, in that moment, Ariel wished that he would never release her.

"Now, Jens is just four steps away." Eric continued, looking toward the Private. "I'll be holding your hand and waist the whole time. You _aren't_ going to fall, Ariel. Please try to take another step toward him. Take his hand when you can reach it." He took a soft breath. "Remember when you walked with me on our first night here in the Palace."

Ariel looked at him, a little smile kindling in her eyes at the renewed memory. She looked to Jens as she felt Eric take her left hand back into his, and then the warmth of his right hand about the small of her back and waist.

Having watched and heard all of this, Jens had stood his ground at Eric's request. He held his right hand up to the young woman who had not long ago been a mermaid. It was a thought in which he took great joy.

All watched as Ariel closed her eyes again and steadied herself. She was standing, nearly on her own, and took solace in that. She thought back to the night that she and Eric had strolled about the palace, him showing her so many things and telling her about them. It had been far too much for her to remember everything, but she remembered the gentle sway of her hips, the feeling of heeled shoes upon her feet. She had been a little unsteady in them, but quickly had found a rhythm that worked for her. She remembered the feeling of her arm entwined in Eric's, of how it felt to gently lift one foot before the other, the strange pull upon her body focused down through the other leg, her thighs and calves softly tensing then relaxing one after the other, again and again.

"_Was dancing like this?" _she had wondered.

She felt a warmth in her free hand, and looked up quickly to find her right hand safely caught in Jens'.

"Thank Goodness." she heard Carlotta's voice cry.

"That was _wonderful_ Ariel." came Eric's voice "Well done!"

Ariel looked about, stunned. She … had she walked? She had walked but she didn't remember doing so. Then, even as the thought crossed her mind, she began to. She remembered how she had put her right foot forward and taken the three short steps to the young soldier. Her eyes rose to meet his. They were a light blue as pale as sea ice. She was shocked to find that they looked terribly familiar to her, and then she remembered that she had seen them before, earlier that afternoon in her bedchamber as he had closed her two doors.

As he found the Princess's eyes now staring into his, it was all that Jens could do not to kiss the delicate hand that he now held in his own. An intense longing and sadness washed through him for a moment before the eyes and smile of another young lady danced in his heart, and the feelings of loss fled away.

"Do you realize that you just took three _perfect _steps, Ariel?" Eric asked, gently placing his lips to her left temple, causing her to close her eyes.

At first, she shook her head, then realizing that he was right, nodded instead. "I … it happened so fast. _Did I_?"

"Yes, you did. Now, let's take some more."

Opening her eyes, she took another deep breath, looking first to Eric, then to Jens.

Already quite astonished at this unexpected turn of events and his role in it, Jens looked to the prince for guidance.

"Thank you Jens. I think that worked well. Maybe if you take up a place in the hall beyond the archway next?"

"Yes, of course sire."

As Jens stepped away, Eric could see Ariel blanch slightly, the momentarily flush of her triumph fading as she faced yet another challenge. The distance was more than twice that she had just crossed.

Despite her fear, Ariel now realized that this was within her reach. She could feel it, the rhythm that her body but not mind still remembered. Steeling herself, she set off.

His fiancée's sudden, determined movement caught Eric by surprise. Through the events and traumas of the day, Eric had forgotten how decisive, how determined Ariel could be when set her mind to something, that is, when she wasn't scared out of her wits. His little mermaid nearly threw herself forward, passing under the draperies of the arch with him fast alongside her. His left hand, though, never left hers; his right hand never departed her waist. In a mere moment, her right hand was once again clasped in Jens'.

Then … she giggled.

Her eyes wide and happy she swung her head to meet Eric's gaze, smiling. _"Eric! I did it! I did it! I walked again! I remember! I think I remember!" _Giggling again, she wrapped her arms around her fiancé, kissing him over and over again on his left cheek as she bounced lightly on her newly obedient feet and toes.

Eric was overjoyed … and quite frankly stunned. To hear his love laughing so, to have felt the confidence and seen the grace in her stride this time … it was the best thing that had happened to her all day, and far better than he had dared pray for. While he had suspected the source of her trouble thanks to her father's warning, he had still been _so afraid_ for her, that her own fear might have quelled the power of the Trident that operated still within in her. He would have to inform and thank her father on the morrow.

Eric rocked Ariel slowly in his arms, twisting lightly at his waist. "I knew that you could. Now, just two more steps, right?"

Pausing in her happiness, Ariel furrowed her brow. "But … you said that before."

Eric smiled. "That's right, until you get where you're going, it's always just two steps." He paused, looking into her eyes. "Never as close as you hope, but never as far as you fear."

"_Oh."_ Ariel replied softly, her eyes wide now and looking lovingly up into his.

"Now, milady, may I escort you to the bathhouse? I've heard that a certain mermaid needs to wash up and refresh herself."

Ariel smiled. "You said that before too, the first part, about the bathhouse."

"They were good words, worth using twice." he smiled, pressing his lips against her temple, once again causing her to draw her eyes closed.

As he pulled away, his little mermaid giggled once again. _"Twelve."_ she whispered.

Eric looked back at her, puzzled. _"Twelve?"_ he asked in reply.

Ariel nodded, _"that's the twelfth kiss that you've given me since I woke." _her voice sweet and wistful.

"_You count my kisses?"_ Eric asked, a broad smile now spreading across his face. _"Are you sure? I think it's been more than that. I lose count – not that I'm counting – because to be honest, I'm always hoping for more."_

His fiancée shook her head smiling back at him with equal joy. _"Ohhh, maybe I lost count too. I wasn't really aware of what was happening earlier, but, it reminds me of the debt I have to repay." _she teased.

"_Ariel, there's no debt. You earned every single kiss that I have ever given you nearly three months ago."_

Ariel's smile faded, replaced by a look of uncertainty. _"But, I, I didn't do so bec …"_

Eric caught her lips with his own, sweeping the former mermaid into a deep embrace and kiss that took everyone else in the room by complete surprise.

It was _not_ brief; nor were the four guardsmen, Grim, and Carlotta the only ones surprised. His kiss took Ariel completely without warning, in both its passion and its depth.

As Eric's lips moved warmly against Ariel's he deepened their embrace. After a moment of shock, she surrendered willingly and returned it, pressing her lips at first softly, then harder against his, exhilarating in how he gently asserted his strength about her.

After perhaps a half a minute, maybe more, their lips parted and they breathed once again.

_"You're mine, or you will be soon, little mermaid," _he whispered softly into her left ear, _"... and I am absolutely not letting you go, not ever." _He drew back slightly._ "I'll never let you fall, not even to your own fears. I love you far too much to ever lose you again."_

Raising her eyes to his once again, Ariel struggled to catch her breath, smiling softly, knowing that he was reaffirming for her only what he had told her so many times before, that not only was she _his_, but that he was equally _hers _as well. There was only the matter of a wedding to make it true in the eyes of humanity and her own people.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_

_A funny thing happened on the way to the Bathhouse – Ariel rediscovered how to walk, with a little bit of help and encouragement from Eric, Jens, and Max. This story proved an example of what seemed to be a beautiful little vignette getting in the way of a properly paced story, thus, the much spoken of "Wash Away Your Cares" will follow shortly, continuing from this point. _

_Okay. Who am I kidding? Pacing is hardly the great strength of "Sael," though I like to think that a loving overindulgence in "Ariel and Eric" might be._

_**Secrets and Hidden Meanings:**_ _There are hidden meanings, secrets, in Sael, in Ariel's Isle, secrets that I don't perhaps want the readers to recognize immediately. There are layers upon layers to the world and many different perspectives. I allude to, offer hints about, and have strewn these elements through all of the stories that are congruent with the main story. Currently "Night Comes to Ariel's Isle" no longer fits this scheme, but it will eventually. Think of these elements as little rewards for studying a chapter in detail or simply going back and re-reading it. _

* * *

_**Acknowledgments and Credits:**_

_**Cover Art:**__The cover art remains "Ariel" by __**scarlettiwater**__ deviantart com._

_The link to the original is scarlettiwater deviantart com/art/Ariel-296039838_

* * *

_**Creative Contributions:**__ I have some definite creative inspirations to acknowledge for this chapter, which I note in order of occurrence in the story. _

_Given that it takes me two months to write a chapter of Sael, and even longer when distracted by pesky graduate studies, I just want to say that the term "sealegs" was going to feature in at least two chapters, but I wanted to acknowledge that __**NightWrighter511**__ used it beautifully in Chapter 22 of "Under the Bright Blue Endless Sky." If you haven't read that story, you are missing out._ _She beat me to it, but I have more up my sleeve regarding this topic and Ariel's experiences with it. :-)_

_Likewise, Eric's allusions to Ariel's past spills and injured feet were a reference to __**TardisBlueMermaid's**__ "Fallen Angel." It's a gorgeous story full of Ariel, Eric, and how very hard it is to become a human when you've always been a mermaid._

_**Crisis Rose's**__ equally lovely "Broken Strings" explores a similar theme, leading in a different (albeit equally adorable) direction, and as I was visualizing and writing Ariel's attempts to walk once again, I was constantly thinking about it._

_Thank all of you for your inspirations and the happiness that your art brings me._


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